Yes, disaster strikes - in the form of a feline by the name of Larry.
Did I mention that I’m passing lockdown with two gingie furballs, who go by the names of Rita and Larry? Well, I am, and as much as I love them to death, I’ve had to go to enormous lengths to keep them from the puzzle. Not so much Rita, to be fair (she’s not interested) but Larry has to be shoo’ed away constantly - for him, this jigsaw - with its 1000 tiny pieces - is the ultimate kitty toy.
Up until now, I’ve been diligent - covering it with towels at night and placing heavy objects on the table (so he can’t jump on it) and keeping him at a distance whilst I’m working. But Larry is persistent - and in a split second, whilst I’m two metres away, making myself some coffee - he strikes.
I hear an almighty crash. The box is on the floor and quite a few pieces with it - including most of Chelsea, some of Mayfair and a fair bit of Westminster. I yell out “No” but it’s too late - the damage has been done.
I survey the chaos - it’s not good, but thank god he hasn’t tipped the entire puzzle over. Surveying the debris, I believe I can salvage Whitechapel, Old Street and Tower Bridge. Still, Larry has set me back around 125 pieces I’d say (which is hard work in puzzle terms). I sigh.
There is nothing for it but to continue!
The days pass. Mornings turn into afternoons, evenings into the wee hours. I sit, glasses on my nose, staring at the box and then tiny side street pieces in turn. I drink wine and groan. I drink more wine.
It’s the most complex jigsaw puzzle I’ve ever attempted and, on a few occasions, I use bad language.
I don’t know South London well and putting together huge swatches of Southwark, Elephant and Castle and Bermondsey almost kills me.
One night, I look at the clock. It’s 2am. The wine bottle is half empty, my back aches and my eyes are seeing double. I realise I’ve been looking for the same damned piece for about 45 minutes. I drag my sorry ass to bed and the next morning, fresh as a daisy. I sit at the table and find it within 2 minutes. (That’s what a good night’s sleep will do for you).
The puzzle is coming together, slowly. I’ve learned so much about the geography of the city that I think I could pass ‘the knowledge’ now (the famous test that black cab drivers have to take, for which they often study around 3 years!) I’m now fitting museums and art galleries into place, arranging Buddhist centres next to superstores and whooping with glee when I find a piece I’d almost given up on.
I am more absorbed in this jigsaw than I’ve been in anything since lockdown.
This 1000 piece ‘A to Z of London’ is - without a doubt - saving my sanity.
The end is drawing near. The pieces in all the different bowls that I’ve painstakingly sorted out are dwindling. Thirty, twenty, ten, five...and I’m done (save one rogue piece which I suspect Larry has disposed of!)
The satisfaction I feel cannot be expressed.
This has got to be one of the best ways of passing time in solitary. I lean back, complacent, and survey my good work. Now I know how I’m going to survive if I ever end up in jail!
What a birthday present. And what a way to pass these strange Corona days.