The “Guess my cup size” competition announced on day 17 has now closed. I measure 45 inches, old money around the pointy things which is where these measurements are usually taken I think. My dear lady wife has brought to bear on the matter her considerable experience in bosoms of all shapes and sizes (she has after all been cultivating many varieties herself over the years) and has determined in her expert capacity that I am a B cup. Actually she said that I look very much like a flat chested fat bird at the best of times which was a bit harsh. Nevertheless she is the expert. So with no entry on the money at 45B there are no winners. There were however two very sweet compliments, sent by private message as required, both without any trace of rudery or profanity, and these will be accepted as runners up. They will both receive a limerick based on their name in the foulness of time via private message which they may publish at their leisure if they so choose.
We have had a few very peaceful days and very welcome they were. I think like many people we went straight into lockdown aiming to survive the experience and to make the best of it with perhaps a little flavour of fatalism and a tinge of not-giving-a-shit-we’re-up-for-it-just-watch-this. As a result we have worked with a great deal more vigour and determination than was strictly necessary. To an extent we might have fizzled out early (my back certainly says so) but I think we learnt a valuable lesson. As a result there has been much more coffee and cake in the sunshine and a great deal less urgency for the last few days. Consequently I am reliably informed by our resident ladies upholstery professional that I might even be a 47B by now. Watch this space.