Report 12: Day 11

Alcohol units: 116 (who’s counting anyway?)

Showers: 4

Facial hair: Groomed

Jogs: 0

Cat: 0

Dog: 1

Wife: 1

Kids alive: 3

Potatoes: 5kg (new)

Father-in-laws: 1

Easter Eggs: 25

It’s almost the long weekend! Said no one. Anywhere.

Dreading it be honest – feel like we are being robbed of a holiday and the Government needs to add up these days we are missing and give them back to us later on in the year? Except of course that last one with Van Riebeeck and “founders’ day”; I feel we should have moved on a bit there – still, I don’t mind doing the Easter Egg thing twice.

Needing to be a quick one today dear Diary; the ‘Popo’ is patrolling the streets again and I am on surveillance watch – let me explain.

Got an “all points” WhatsApp request (on the “boys’ group) from our neighbor over the road in desperate need of a few bottles of vino. I am behind on my quota, especially with Poppie staying with us, but at the same time with the Vodka distillery coming online I felt I can be a bit more charitable.

To be honest I was feeling a bit magnanimous on the alcohol front, after last night’s success and a little drunk on my own success...and a few glasses of Douglas Green’s finest papsak (it’s almost the long weekend and day drinking so far has gone unnoticed).

I told Dazza I'd leave them at the gate – social distancing and illegal smuggling of alcohol being what it is at present. He's such a good sport and so often helps out with the kids lifts etc. I couldn't really say no.

I sent Poppie on the mission, having prepped a cardboard box of mostly empty wine bottles, but adding two full ones (also a good way to get rid of the “empty bottles of shame” building up in the garage); they’re Dazza’s problem now – I just hope he recycles like he should.

I opened the garage door and sent my father-in-law out into the open world. He was wearing my full-length winter coat again with a pair of neon-green skiing goggles and the snorkel we had used in the shed. After watching ‘Contagion’ with us the other night he wasn’t taking chances, he said. In that get up I don’t fancy his chances of catching anything, let alone the virus.

While I kept watch I immediately spotted Mrs. B peering through her binocs AGAIN. Her gaze was focused on Poppie! Amazing you introduce fresh meat into the neighborhood and suddenly everybody on the hunt? (too young for you Mrs. B, too young!)

I could see her pulling back the curtains from her upstairs windows; she was wearing what appeared to be a homemade face mask – I assume it was homemade as the floral pattern matched the very curtains she was peering out from perfectly; this had the curious effect of completely camouflaging her lower face, leaving only her binoculars and blue rinse bouffant exposed. She looked like a bug-eyed stick of blue candy floss; not a good look for anyone.

FFS! Does this woman think she works for the CIA!?

The reason for my brevity here dear Diary, is that within 30minutes of Poppies drop-off and Dazza’s “box” collection, 3 cops started patrolling the neighborhood, very slowly and deliberately, blue lights rolling and all. They pulled up outside Dazza’s house and stayed there for 10 minutes or so before moving on; Dazza later WhatsApp’d me and said he was completely bricking it while they sat in the car outside…only once they left did he pour himself a glass of his illicit merlot (I didn’t say we gave him the good stuff, charitable, not stupid) and relaxed a bit.

It’s all a bit too suspicious for my liking; I am now manning the front room watching the street for their possible return. I fear the snitch next door with all her snooping has ratted out the Distillery and has threatened the integrity of Project Mother Russia.

My shift ends at 7pm after which “Starsky” (he’s back) takes over the lookout.

Update on supplies:

I escaped to the shops today and managed to restock on more Easter Eggs, potatoes and oddly enough a medical grade thermometer for the distillery; I needlessly made up a story about needing it just in case one of us got a fever…so he tried to sell me one of those digital ones…useless in a vat full of distilling potatoes of course…so I told him actually it was for my aging grandmother, who was old-school and was against modern technology …he nodded knowingly and mumbled something about “rectal” temperatures always being more consistent. I chose to ignore him and hurried away with my glass and mercury prize.

Check on the “mash” it’s settling well – tomorrow we strain and distil…Project Mother Russia is on track.

RH