Peace reigns once more at the Manor.

The painters have left having been nearly all day yesterday and all this morning. The smell of paint is quite strong despite having all the windows and doors open. I am scared to touch anything now. I approach doors with trepidation for fear of leaving a dirty great handprint on a gleaming surface. I am so paranoid that I’m afraid to touch any surface even where the painters haven’t been. They had done all the kitchen cabinets, the front walls and the garage door and now they have done all the walls, doors and door frames. They have also unintentionally done the floor but I managed to clean most of that up.

And Penny has blonde [white] highlights in her hair which is weird.

So now all is quiet and I enter a week of weirdness.

Lockdowns are old hat at this point but the next week goes beyond that. I am effectively cut off from the world and I move at the whims and behests of a crowd of gurriers from a fucking film company. According to the painters there isn’t a parking space to be had within a mile of the village and that was at ten on a Sunday morning before they even start filming. Traffic on the road outside the Manor is mental. I have to nip down to the shop down the road for milk shortly. I’ll bring a picnic and a sleeping bag just in case.

It crossed my mind to get a few of the local lads involved with a little scheme. I reckon with a few judicious signs we could narrow entry to the village to just four roadblocks. We could make a small fortune at a tenner a car? Or more?

So the isolation begins. I don’t know what I’ll have to scribble about for the next few days.

At least my room is nice and bright.