The second spell of lockdown... You know, it really hasn't made any difference to me at all. Apart from the signs on the roads saying STAY AT HOME! Well, it has made a difference: my journey times to and from work are shorter. Long may it continue, I say. Really. Apart from the fact that the vets won't cut my dog's claws because it's non-essential. My dog won't let me cut his claws because he knows I am a demon with scissors. And fire. A bit of a fan of destruction, me.
When I was three or four, maybe even younger as I'm not sure that my nephew Mole was born. Anyway, I think this is my earliest memory. My nephew Seb and I - he was six months older. He still is, funnily enough. It was Christmas. The adults were in the dining room - my mother and father, my half-sister and her husband. We were alone by the fire in the sitting room with our presents. Yes, toddlers by a fire. You wouldn't get that these days. We had this plan to burn the presents because it was so nice seeing them blaze and sizzle. Thing was, Seb was smarter than me and so he handed over the offerings for the flames. My toys, not his. By the time some parent came in, all of mine were ashes and none of his were.
Another time, when I was maybe six, my mother left me in our brand new golden Cortina while she went in to have her back seen to. She had a slipped disc or something. Would have been just a year or so younger than I am now. I discovered that the cigarette lighter worked just fine when the engine wasn't on. So I burnt holes in the upholstery and fascia of the new car. It smelt bad, but was kind of addictive.
I set fire to my clothes once. The heating had broken in my house. It was winter, so I had a fire going and was trying to dry my laundry on rails in front of it. I went to have a bath. The dog kept coming in and looking at me. In my own good time I got out and noticed that the other room seemed rather bright. Yes, the clothes were in flames. Don't recall what I did. I still have a scorched tea towel but I think my dressing gown was a goner.
As for the scissors, well, I go through stages of cutting up clothes. Cut off jeans, no sleeve T shirts. I get a bit carried away. Then there's my hair, which, since I bought the hairdressing scissors, has got progressively shorter.
I used to get very excited with the hedge-cutting tool and the shears. A manic look in my eyes and it was goodbye plants. But back then I threw the mess over my back wall where there was, like, a wasteland. Now it's someone's garden. Destroyed my summer fun.
I think smashing things would be good. Tearing up cardboard boxes is boring. Smashing a load of glass. Multicoloured glass. That would be enjoyable and pretty.
You may be thinking that i sound stir-crazy. But no, all these examples came from days of glorious freedom. Destruction isn't just for lockdown, it's for life.
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