Thursday 17th December 2018

One of the biggest mysteries at this time of year is finding out when the bins will be collected. This is made all the more difficult by the local council putting the wrong leaflets through the door two years in a row now. So, as we sit sipping coffee I could hear the truck reversing down the street this morning, rather than Saturday as the leaflet said. So, I quickly take our trash out to the bins, wheel the bins to the top of the drive: job done.

The plan for the day was, well. I was going to work, and Jols was going to take Sylv to London so she could go home to visit her family back in Bolton. The plan originally was for Slyv to sell up her house oop north and move down here. But it became clear pretty quick after the deeds were done that she did miss her family, no matter how much they sponged off her. So her plan is to go home, buy a cheap flat and spit her time between Kent and Bolton. I suspect she might not come back, but we shall see.

Sylv is a little naive and not wedded to the clock, so Jools thought it best to accompany her up to London on the train and get her to Euston to catch her train to Manchester. I would drop them off at the station, and check mails for work, as you do.

Sylv had packed a case nearly as large as she is, and also had a huge back packed with presents for the family. That was going to be fun.

I took them down to Priory station in plenty of time so Jools could get a ticket, then returned home to begin working.

And as I dealt with the few mails I had, they caught the already full train to London, having to sit on the flip top seats near the toilets. God knows how those at Folkestone and beyond would get on.

I worked away. In London, Jools carried the bag of presents, but bit by bit it came apart, until they had made it to Euston stuff was all but tumbling out. And they had less than five minutes to find which platform the train was leaving from and get Sylv on, and she had no seat reserved! In the end, Jools was able to go down onto the platform and push Sylv, her case and bag onto the train before the doors closed and the train slipped away.

Sighing, Jools turned round and made the journey back.

I carried on working.

It has to be said, not working too hard, as most others had the week off too, but I am all caught up.

I watch some stuff on TV, or try to but I find I am so tired I can't concentrate.

For lunch I have cold Yorkshire puddings, followed by mince pies. All gone.

I get a call from Jools, can I pick her up from Ringwold as the bus refused to stop at the bottom of Station Road, so I put on my coat and take the car to collect her. Outside the traffic was busy enough, and already it was getting dark, so once home I go to bed for a snooze, and end up staying there two hours.

I get up at six with it dark and heck outside. We cut the first slice on the second cake and have a brew.

We while away the evening listening to music and me writing the orchid blogs.

And just like that, there is just over three days left in the year.