Mind games

In this strange chunk of time we're inhabiting, frayed at the edges and stretched out of shape like a well worn jumper you once couldn't live without, the very essence of time - as measured by the ticking of clocks - seems to be evaporating into thin air. The memories it leaves behind are full of holes. Ripped apart and scattered like daisy petals. 

My mind is worn thin by the eternal what ifs that keep chasing each other in vain, and that light at the end of the tunnel just keeps on flickering. Now you see it, now you don't.

October's final days aren't far behind us - just a mere fortnight - but already they feel like an eternity ago. My brain is struggling to give meaning to them, and I very much doubt that without the photographical evidence and the often scatty scribbles in my journal, I would remember just what I did with them.

As I've always been known to have excellent memory, this rather scares me. Has that damned virus been nibbling my brain, perhaps?

Skipping Monday, which my journal tells me was a quiet day at the office, we have now arrived on Tuesday 27 October. Looking forward to a bit of a lie in, we were dismayed to be rudely awoken by noisy machinery in the street behind us just after 7. Typically, by the time we were up and having breakfast, things had quietened down. Oh well.

The skirt I built that day's outfit around was another €1 Think Twice find from last year, which I'd grabbed from the rails without trying on, thinking I could always sell it on our flea market stall if it didn't fit. 

I suspect it was someone's handiwork, and its crepey 1980s does 1950s print fabric is fully lined for extra swishiness. 

I paired it with a wide-collared raspberry vintage blouse, its orange buttons tying in with the rust coloured bits in the skirt. Although grey doesn't appear in the skirt's print nor is it a colour I often wear, I thought the dove grey belt and cardigan fit the bill perfectly. 

To the blouse's generous collar, I pinned a vintage swallow brooch, echoing the greys, as did the necklace, which is made up of grey, black and orange discs.

The day was dismal and grey, with a persistent drizzle driven horizontally by a chilly wind which, aided by a temperature barely out of single figures, ruled out any outdoor activities.

I cracked on with the slow and tedious process of deep-cleaning the kitchen, but called it a day at the hard to reach bits on top of the cabinets. However, Jos did take down the light pendant to release it of its greasy layer of dust. What slobs we are!

The pendant, by the way, was a leftover from a charity shop retro event a couple of years ago, which we snapped up after its price was significantly reduced.

It might not all be squeaky clean (yet) but the sight of our makeshift kitchen with its motley collection of kitchenalia never fails to put a smile on my face!

I was back at the office on Wednesday, taking a break around lunch time for a visit to my hairdresser. What a stroke of luck, as it turned out they would have to close again in just a handful of days!

 

The weather didn’t look too bad when we got up on Thursday morning, and in fact, we got some sunshine mid-morning to early afternoon, with highs of about 14°C.

While Jos went food shopping, I walked into the village and went to Kruidvat - the Low Countries' answer to Superdrug - and stocked up on soaps, body lotion, hand cream and an assortment of other care essentials, as we were expecting the announcement of another lockdown on Friday. 

I also cheekily bought a brand new dress from a boutique which is closing down, which you'll get to see later in this post.

Both back at home, we put away the shopping and had lunch. Then I grabbed my camera and popped out into the garden to photograph the mix of Summer colour and Autumn splendour. 

I pottered around upstairs and it was only by mid-afternoon that I realized we hadn't done outfit photos yet. By then, of course, the clouds had chased away the last of the sunshine, and it had started raining.

There was nothing for it but to take our photos inside, where lighting conditions are far from ideal. These were the best of the bunch.

My long-sleeved tartan print Diolen dress came out to play and, taking the lead from its main colour, I added a green cardigan and opaques. The necklace, with its pale green mottled beads, was a recent charity shop find which didn't make it to the blog, while the navy belt with its cream buckle used to be my Mum's. The black floral brooch was a flea market find.

With chillier weather on the horizon, I played around with my coat wardrobe, exchanging some of the lighter weight coats for these two warmer ones.

Friday was a strange day, on which I couldn't settle to anything.  The powers that be had been in a meeting since 1 pm to decide on further measurements and even if we already suspected the outcome, we kept checking the news every half hour or so. It would take them until 19.00 to do a press conference, by which time my nerves were shattered. 

To cheer myself up, I wore the cheeky dress I'd bought the previous day, a midi shirt dress with a slightly nipped in waist, in a gorgeous teal printed with purple and caramel flowers. 

I added a tan belt at my waist, and topped it with a cardigan in exactly the same shade of burnt orange as my opaques. My wooden beaded necklace added another colourful note in orange, purple and fuchsia, while I echoed the teal of my dress by adding a ring and flower corsage in the same colour.

As the dress is unlined, a vintage slip came to the rescue! 

To stave off the frustration of waiting for the government announcement, I threw myself headlong into the seasonal shoe changeoever, putting away the last of the Summer shoes and getting out the tall boots I'll soon be living in. Most of the current season's shoes are stored in a tower of purple IKEA shoe boxes in the spare room.

I also had a massive decluttering session, resulting in bags of no longer worn shoes, ready for when the charity shops re-open.

Saturday dawned to a spirit soaring, golden Autumn day, again with temperatures of about 14°C.

I'd woken up in a sweat overnight, thinking of a couple more things we were in need of to tide us over until Mid-December, so after breakfast I returned to the village and joined the short queue in front of Kruidvat. 

There were longer queues elsewhere and that night we were horrified to see the images of crowded city streets all over the news. What happened to social distancing?  Do people value the purchase of Primark tat over the threat of a devastating virus? What a world!

We opted to make the most of the sunshine while it lasted by going for a short stroll in a neighbouring village. 

Regular readers might recall previous visits to this domain surrounding the Neoclassical manor house called Hof ter Linden. The house itself is in a sorry state and its restauration apparently once again postponed, while its stable courtyard has been largely completed by now.

We circled the lake which lies at the back of the house, crunching through delicious leafy layers and sampling the soul-restoring hurrah of colour and scent.

I was wearing one of the coats I'd exchanged on Friday and my feet were happy to be wearing this slightly worn but very comfortable pair of boots.

I'll gladly show you what I was wearing underneath the coat, starting with one of the latest additions to my skirt wardrobe, featuring an Autumnal melange of bottle green, ochre and reddish brown.

My pussy-bow blouse is an old habitué of my wardrobe, and its print complemented the skirt's colours perfectly. On top, I added a yellow batwing cardigan, which is H&M by way of a charity shop.

Accessories included a knitted belt with a large round wooden buckle, a vintage scarf clip to tame the pussy-bow and my ceramic Merhorse brooch. 

It is a joy to be outside on days like this, with a hint of an earthly aroma lingering in the air, the ground carpeted with a Summer's worth of leaves. Although it is quite disconcerting to see how much greenery still remains on this last day of October.

The last day of October, and Hallowe'en, for those who celebrate the occasion. Apart from the odd jack-o'-lantern and the rare as hen's teeth spookily decorated homes, there hasn't been quite the enthusiasm for Hallowe'en here as there was in years past.

But sometimes nature provides its own decoration, right in front of our very own kitchen window.

A word of warning though: arachnophobes, please do stop scrolling right here!

To those who have made it to the other side without screaming, I'm urging you to stay safe and sane, wherever you are!