Wednesday 14th October 2015

Tuesday

I woke up at five, having had some sleep I guess, then dozed until six, by which time Jools had already left for work. I felt like shit, really. But a coffee. Another coffee. And one more coffee for luck, and I felt i could handle the day.

Not much really to report of the day. I worked away, throwing myself into creating some project documentation, and once I got into the swing of it, it came together really well. A few more days work needed, obviously, some fine tuning. Anyway, that deserved a good lunch. And what is better than bubble and squeak? What is bubble and squeak I hear my non-Brit readers ask. Well, fried up road leftovers: vegetables, potatoes and whatever. I grated some cheese into the pan, cooked until crispy, added a fried egg and all was done. Perfect. Only, I seem to have developed an egg allergy thing. Or at least my stomach does not like fried eggs, poached eggs and even egg sandwiches. And two minutes after finishing, I had to dash to the loo. Urgh.

I checked online, it seems fairly common, and not too much to worry about I think. It is not the first time, but just means I have to be even more careful now what I eat. Thankfully beer does not contain eggs so I am OK there.

That really killed my appetite for the rest of the day, so cracked on with work, listened to the radio and generally passed the day in a productive manner. Oddly, or maybe not so oddly, e mail was quiet, this as I believe it is half term, or kid's holiday in Denmark. Or as it is called, potato week. When kids in villages in years past used to to have this week off to help the harvest. Its a tradition still, even if the children don't have to pick spuds.

Anyway, all is quiet on the mail and phone front. So once it begins to get dark, I treat myself to an episode of Time Team on one of the repeat channels on the TV, and think aout dinner. Seems like bangers and chips is what Jools wants, so who am I to deny her that? I cook some puds in the microwave, slice them, then try them until they're crispy. We have the last of the wild garlic sausages from the spring, and that is it. Simple, dirty food.

One last comment for the day is this:

Whilst searching for something else, I came across a news story relating to a friend of mine. He has been the subject of online abuse, as well as an article by one of the Sunday tabloids. His family has been split in two, he has lost his living, and is now, I guess unemployable. I think that sums things up. He was convicted and sentenced for a crime. He served his time, was released and rebuilt his life. Is society saying that he can never be rehabilitated, even if he did or didn't do what he was convicted of? What chance has he got in life now? Are some crimes so bad we can never forget, and he can never be rehabilitated? I don't have the answer. I do know he was convicted on shaky evidence, which the judge did not allow. And now, as a result, his life is ruined. I hope all those who have worked to destroy what he built up are happy with themselves and can live with their consciences.

I suppose it makes me realise how lucky I am: being married to a wonderful woman, living in a great house in a beautiful village, a job I enjoy, being able to indulge my hobbies, travel a lot. Others, I know, are not so lucky, which means I do not know my elevated position. And just how blissfully happy I am. Where did it all go right?