Friday 7 February 2020

Thursday 6th February 2020

Here we are.

Back in the saddle again.

Well, once after Jools goes back to work, leaving me at home in charge of the rubbish,. And cats. But mostly the rubbish.

And once I had drunk the coffee, I gather the rubbish and put it in the blue bin. Or is it the black bin? Put it out on the road, and go to the spare room to do some phys.

I program the i pod, press play, and my fat little legs try to keep up.

Thirty seven As you do.

I am all done by half seven all hot and sweaty, and less than half an hour until it was time for work. But then no one is keeping tabs on me.

But by eight I am sitting down with my bowl of fruit,a fresh coffee and looking at an inbox literally overflowing with no e mails.

At all.

I go outside to see what was happening, and find that spring has sprung.

A group of Common Field Speedwell sowing well in the early morning sun, but not open until half ten, so I wait to get my pictures.

In what was once the lawn, I find a small Petty Spurge

Petty Spurge Euphorbia peplus And a Small Annual Mercury.

Annual Mercury Mercurialis annua Not much, but it shows spring has arrived, and self seeded seeds. I mean, what's not to like?

Sometimes I wish something exciting would happen. Maybe the end of the world. Or something not quite as exciting, but you know, something to keep the juices flowing.

Meanwhile afternoon passes into afternoon, clouds gather and I ponder whether to have another slice of toast and marmalade.

These things are important.

Lunch is fried left over mashed potatoes, bbq beans and some defrosted sausages. It is magnificent.

I mean it could have been healthier, but where's the fun in that?

I eat brunch sometimes before eleven.

What now?

Brew?

Through the day I make a pot of ragu sauce to have for dinner on Friday. It smells good enough to eat on the spot.

Dinner is shoarma chicken, curried rice and a mad mix f creamed spinach and sweetcorn.

Shouldn't have worked, but does.

For the evening there is music, and talking. But too tired for much else. Uckers? Jools asks at half eight, but too late, bed time at nine is calling.

Why fight it?

No comments: