unaccustomed sociability

I’m getting used to being on my own again.

I’m not feeling quite so bleak and chilly. Now and then I wear my anorak without the hood up.

In some ways it’s quite nice to have the house to myself. Peaceful, and I can be as selfish as I like.

I wish Um and the Baby hadn’t left, but I appreciate being able to sleep all night without being bounced on, and not having to tidy up all the time.

The Baby did like to scatter things around.

It seemed very particular about how many beans should be in each line, clever little thing.

I never needed to watch the television, with the Baby’s ingenious antics to watch.

Not that I have a television anyway.

Of course it’s good that I can play my triangle without the Baby wanting to swing on it, but I miss the little scamp.

My cousin Peter and I have been playing a Zoom duet together.

Peter chose a sad song. It ends with both of us full of tears.

It made me resolve to take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs.

Does grass grow on weirs?

Bimbo is pleased with our recording.

It wouldn’t have been easy to achieve that with the Baby around.

That’s not to say that I wouldn’t be delighted if they turned up on the doorstep wanting to live here again. On the contrary, I would be extremely happy.

Ding-dong

Oh, there’s the doorbell!

Could it be Um and the Baby? No, don’t be silly, Tom. They’ve gone, and they won’t be coming back.

It can’t be a canvasser, because the election’s over.

Not likely to be the postperson with a parcel, though you never know.

Well, blow me down! Look who’s here!

It’s Kimbleton Tardigrade!

I met them at the seaside last year when I was on my great cycling expedition.

I thought it was just a holiday friendship. I never expected to see them again.

I wonder if I’ve got anything I can give them for supper. They probably aren’t used to eating condensed milk out of the tin.

I wish I could ask Ruffy what he thinks about it. He reads all the latest medical research.

Oh dear oh dear.

I’ll open the windows, and keep well away from Kimbleton.

I am quite vulnerable, and I know how nasty The Virus is, from when Bimbo was so ill last year, and then poor Bunce and Snowy still aren’t quite right, though they’re now managing to help a little with the farm work.

Monkey says the weather isn’t good enough for convalescents to be out of doors, so he just lets them do what they can while tucked up in bed.

Ruffy tells me that there are New Variants arriving as well, so we do still have to be careful.

But then, it is also important to be hospitable.

Oh dear oh dear, I don’t like having to make difficult decisions in a hurry.

At least I’ve had my first vaccination. I wonder if Kimbleton has had theirs?

I should put on my mask, really, but perhaps it would look rude, as though I think Kimbleton is germy.

I wonder what a t’rung is. A mat for dancing on, I suppose.

Or perhaps a sort of basket, like a trug.

What am I going to give Kimbleton to eat?
I know. I still have a bit of that lentil mush that I cooked. It was quite tasty.

Kimbleton did a quick tap-dance on the t’rung, and I realised that to play along with that, I’d need a very delicate silvery touch on my triangle.

It’s lovely to play live music again with another musician. I’d forgotten how enjoyable it is.

Kimbleton dances beautifully. Who would have thought a tardigrade could be so nimble?

It’s quite hard to keep up with their twinkling toes.

Imagine what fun the Baby could have with an instrument that you can jump on.

Now, what on earth am I to suggest we do next? Is Kimbleton expecting to stay the night? I wonder if they’ll be happy just to sit around, or whether I should think of ways to entertain them.

I’m afraid I’ve forgotten how sociability works.