Friday 13th March 2014

Thursday

In so the forth day of the week, working from home once more, and I guess the novelty has worn off. Although after the next four weeks away, I will long for a day at home with the cats and radio blabbing in the background. Another spring day, even warmer than Wednesday, I make sure the heating is off, and open the back door. My back is still painful, so I try not to sit at the table so much when working, getting up, walking about, making phone calls and obeying the cats demands for food/strokes/water/whatever.

I book travel for week 13, which takes me almost up to Easter, really? Where did the year go already?

The morning passes into afternoon, I spend the day writing reports, swearing that my notes are not so comprehensive as I had wanted, the final one, covering five days work, is very thin on detail. I expect that no one will ever read these anyway. So, I let it go.

The afternoon wears on, over in Denmark people leave off. I look at my task list, it seems I am up to date, so I sit with Molly on the sofa and watch some crap daytime TV. Or try to. I mean, there are dozens of channels of crap. But somehow, Storage Hunters takes my fancy, and then some nature program with a guy looking for a new kind of piranha. It was in Brazil, I think, and the scenes of life beside the river were wonderful.

Before dark, I plane the three ferns we had bought, they look fine under the living room window, we think we need another one. Or two. But bigger.

In the evening, it was back to 1980, as the regular TOTP came on, Kenny Rodgers at number one, really? Really? And the words to Coward of the Country, much darker than I remember. The Beat were joyous though, and even for a metalhead as I was at the time, Hands Off, She's Mine is great.

Oh my word, it is not nine yet, and we are so tired again. Is this getting old, going to bead earlier and earlier, so we can get up the next morning, earlier and earlier?

Seems so.