Tuesday 6th March 2018

Here we are again.

I am fed up with the flu/cold or long, slow recovery I am going through. I can feel a sore throat coming on, which could mean a fresh bout on the way. I was awake at half four in the morning, waiting for dawn to come, Scully snoozing at my side. It could be worse I suppose.

The car has to go in for a service, and so Jools is dropping it off on the way to work, meaning she won't leave the house until quarter to eight; would I like to go for a walk before work, she asked? I would, but I have a meeting to prep for. I have a coffee and by seven am at work, searching the contract for clauses.

Jools goes out for a walk, comes back and leaves for the garage and then to work. I am already at the workface.

That is done by ten, at which point I have brunch and another brew.

We have been feeding the birds in the garden for several months, and now we can see the results: maybe a dozen blackbirds, a smattering of Blue and Great Tits, magpies, rooks, chaffinches and a charm of goldfinches. And there is something new happening all the time.

I get the big boy lens out when I thought I saw a Brambling, but turns out it was "just" a Long Tailed Tit, still wonderful to see.

And all through it, the cats sleep through it.

I run out of puff at some point in the afternoon. It is gone three, so I take to the sofa to watch Wheeler Dealers, no idea why I like it, but the results they get from rust heaps is just stunning. Anyway, I send some final e mails out for the day and I am done.

The garage calls; we need new front brakes, due to the high milage we are doing. Another three hundred quid. Gone.

Norwich play in the evening, and draw 0-0 with Forest, and City are now the forth lowest scorers in the division, down from last season's second highest. We're not conceding many though. I watch another hour or so of Russian car crashes, which I am able to stop, wondering hat the next idiot is going to do. All pissed on vodka one suspects.