A Pun-ishing Eggs-ercise In Which I Shell Not Egg-Cell In Cracking Eggs-tremely Eggs-cellent Yolks

James Proclaims (4)

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If the title of the post has brought you to here in the eggs-pectation that I’ll be cracking lots of egg-based puns then I’m sorry to disappoint, but I won’t be.

Apart from in that sentence.

Which I admit, looks a little misleading as disclaimers go.

But, much as I enjoy a good egg-based pun it’s eggs-hausting trying to crowbar them into whatever I’m writing, so I’m not going to do any more.

But if you want to leave some in the comments then feel free.

The comments section of a blog is the place for egg-based humour.

I look forward to seeing you there.

In the meantime I must write about the elephant in the room.

Which is not an actual elephant.

I’ve done a whole post about an actual elephant in the room before. It was hilarious. You can read it now if you click on these words.

The elephant in this post is entirely metaphorical. For the elephant in this room is none-other than the noble Easter Egg.

I know Easter isn’t really about the giving and receiving of chocolate eggs and frankly the worldwide pandemic is causing bigger issues than whether or not I get to eat a chocolate egg or two today.

But I like an Easter Egg. It reminds me of when I was a child. And given that I have really struggled over the last forty-one years with the whole ‘growing-up’ malarkey, I need things like overpriced chocolate eggs to keep my, rather loud, inner child happy. Also I have a rather loud ‘outer’ child who lives in my house. She’s my daughter.

Although she’s still only twenty months old so she doesn’t much care about Easter Eggs yet.

I’m certain she’d like an Easter Egg if I gave her one, because she does like chocolate.

Or she claims to like chocolate.

I mean she does like actual chocolate, but she tends to refer to lots of things that aren’t chocolate as chocolate. She often uses  it as a synonym for things which look quite appealing to eat.

Sometimes it might be other nice things like gingerbread or cake.

But the other day I distinctly heard her refer to a stone she found in the garden as chocolate so I’m not sure her tastes are all that discerning yet.

But back to the eggs.

Often Mrs Proclaims and I will buy each other an Easter Egg. It’s one of many things we try to do to demonstrate that we like each other.

Which we do.

But in the current climate, we’re only supposed to go out to make essential purchases.

And it’s hard to argue that an Easter Egg is an essential purchase.

There were stories in the media about the police taking issue with certain shops who were selling Easter Eggs. It’s hard to imagine that could be down to the British media seizing on one or two incidents of slightly overzealous policing at a time of great confusion and uncertainty to provoke a reaction from an already bewildered and fearful public. That doesn’t sound like the British media at all…

Still, Easter Eggs have been on sale in the supermarkets, so, while it would seem irresponsible for Mrs Proclaims and I to have gone out specifically to buy them, I felt entirely justified in just shoving some into the trolley when I was braving Tesco for my essential weekly groceries recently.

There was an offer if you bought three so I bought three.

Which could be distributed evenly between my wife, my child and myself.

But, as discussed, Little Proclaims is really too young to have her own Easter Egg.

And if I’m honest, Mrs Proclaims didn’t desperately want one either.

So I may have purchased three largish chocolate eggs entirely for my own consumption.

Obviously my wife and daughter might have a bit of chocolate egg here and there to help me out.

But I’m going to be eating most of the chocolate myself.

On reflection, this may not have been a sensible purchase.

But the supermarkets are such stressful places these days.

So I think, by only getting three, I actually demonstrated great restraint.

And for the first time in a long time, there was plenty of toilet paper on the supermarket shelves this week, so if excessive chocolate consumption causes any undesirable effects, then I’m covered there too.

 

 

 

Pandemical Positives

James Proclaims (4)

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No-one loves a pandemic more than me.

Then again, no-one loves a pandemic less than me.

Because, presumably, no-one loves a pandemic.

Except possibly toilet-paper manufacturers.

But, on the whole, it’s fair to say that this whole pandemic malarkey is pretty bad news.

Nevertheless, if you can shake off the never-ending panic and crippling fear for a few moments, then there are one or two positives to be taken from the current situation we find ourselves in.

If you can ignore the agonizing pain of hand-washing-induced eczema caused by your ever-diminishing supplies of hand-soap, then you may yet find a reason or two to be cheerful.

Yes, in amongst the terrifying realisation that you’ve invented a new mental health condition that combines all the worst parts of claustrophobia, agoraphobia, enochlophobia, nosophobia and OCD, there could still be a silver-lining hidden amongst the gathering clouds of doom.

The British media might have you believe that the positives come from a camaraderie that is beginning to develop between us all. A sense that we’re all in this together. There was a moment on Thursday evening when many of us stood in our doorways and applauded the workers of the NHS. I’m normally cynical about such things but I’ll concede it was a much-needed moment of solidarity and actually genuinely heart-warming.

Still, I’ll feel even better about my fellow humans when I begin to see plentiful supplies of loo roll on the supermarket shelves.

And important though NHS staff undoubtedly are in this crisis, I personally feel that anyone who currently works in a supermarket is also deserving of our national gratitude. Because, although I’m avoiding the big stores as much as possible, when I have been forced to cross the threshold of one, I’ve found the staff to be universally  helpful, polite and friendly, which, in the current circumstances, is nothing short of heroic in my view.

The news, despite being mostly apocalyptic in tone, is interspersed with the odd bit of light relief. I enjoyed the story of the man who, deprived of his opportunity to run this year’s London marathon, opted to run the entire distance in his back garden. Although, the makeshift finish line, crafted by his son did seem like a frivolous use of toilet paper, all things considered.

For me though, the greatest positive is my family.

Deprived of actual contact with our parents and siblings, Mrs Proclaims and I have never been more active on social media. The daily videos of our nieces and nephews being ridiculously cute, comically crazy or, most often, a combination of both has been nothing short of delightful.

It’s probably sad to say we’re seeing more of them ‘virtually’ now then we ever managed in reality before all of this started.

And being trapped in a house with my own wife and child has actually been only beneficial. Of course Mrs Proclaims and I have our moments of discord, but we always did. I believe that’s called marriage.

But I think spending more time together has actually been good for us.

And, while I like to think I’ve always been pretty good at making time for the littlest ‘Proclaims’, the enforced additional time at home has helped me to connect with her on a whole new level and in the bizarrest, most unexpected of situations, I occasionally find myself feeling happier than I have in a long time.

Although I’m not sure my daughter shares the sentiment.

One of the more pretentious aspects of our parenting is that we’re attempting to bring our daughter up to be fluent in French. Mrs Proclaims and I speak French (she far better than I) so it seems like the least we could do is pass on that skill to our child.

And she’s developing quite well in that respect, having a vocabulary in both English and French that is pretty impressive for a toddler just shy of being twenty months old.

But one of her favourite French expressions at the moment is the following:

“Aux secours!”

Which roughly translates as:

“Help!”

And she only says it when I’m around.

 

 

 

 

 

Pandemically Proverbial

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Home is where the heart is
Which is useful because it’s also where the rest of me is
All the time now
And I like to be where my heart is
I need my heart
To stay alive
Indeed I’m not quite sure how I managed to cope
When I was allowed to leave my home
If my heart was always there

They say keep your friends close
And your enemies closer
But that seems like really bad advice at the moment
Current government guidance is to keep both very far way indeed

There’s no time like the present
Although yesterday was quite a lot like today
And I have a strong feeling tomorrow will be quite similar too
So, there are some times that are a bit like the present
In the current climate, it seems like a lot of times will
Be very much like the present
As we never leave our homes

And two heads are not better than one
When attempting to social distance
One head is the optimum number of heads
To do that effectively

And to that end,
If you can’t beat them,
Under no circumstances should you join them
And you should absolutely not
Bite the hand that feeds you
Unless that hand has been washed
For at least twenty seconds using soap
Or at the very least a high alcohol hand sanitiser
But soap is better
And I for one will only be biting hands that have used soap

Yes, home is where the heart is
And there’s no place like home
Not that any of us will ever get the chance to test that sentiment
Anytime soon