Tuesday 21st February 2017

A week working from home fells almost as good as a holiday. I mean I can lay in bed, have a leisurely breakfast, commute to the next chair at the dining room table, have the radio on, eat sandwiches or leftovers for lunch, be pestered by the cats and be able to look long at the birds in the front garden and the emergence of the spring plants in the back garden. How lucky am I?

Very.

So, we get up at six as usual and feed the cats, make coffee and check up on the world to see if Mad Donald has been even madder. Only 7 years 11 months before his craziness is over. Sadly. Unless he is impeached. That there are people still defending hm and his policies, and the way he attacks the 4th estate, almost as though he has stuff to hide. I mean, links with Russia, tax returns, dredging up his past and things he has said in the past. And holding him and his administration to account, why would be be afraid of that?

Jools leaves for work, leaving me to work and the three cats to sleep the morning through. And some of the afternoon, waking up to be instantly hungry and come to me to demand meow. And now!

I spend the morning trying to get my new work phone to work. I guess something is happening as my old phone has no signal, meaning no one can call me. Result! But the new phone works once I restart it, and then I have to figure out how it works. I have no idea. I have yet to receive a call on it. However, I have to sync my work e mail to it, and IT have helpfully made a page on the intranet to help. Only there are three different sorts of phone; android, OS and Windows. What do I have? no idea. I google the phone name and it is android.

I have to download an app from the store, apparently. But it fails to recognise me, or my authority to do this. Finally I work out how to link Outlook on the phone to my account, and in an hour all my mails come pouring in.

It is lunchtime, and there is leftover chorizo hash to have. I had planned to make an omelette, but look in the fridge and find zero eggs. So, I just warm it up in a frying pan and it is pretty darn good, even if the potato cubes are not as crunchy as last night. Still, not bad for lunch.

I have to return my old phone, and at the same time I could post off 12 months of travel receipts. And I need to have eggs for dinner, so no other choice but to walk into the village, down and up Station Road, past the empty Red Lion. Its a cool day, but the hill soon has me puffing. In the post office, I meet the village character, he stinks, and smells of stale wee. Really quite unpleasant. I think he needs help to be honest, and once he leaves the post office, the ladies behind the counter asks if we would leave the door open so to ventilate the shop.

I send the phone and receipts back, costing a total of eight quid.

In the village shop, I meet the character again, he is talking to a packet of cornflakes. I grab the eggs and a magnum, pay and make a dash for it before he comes near. I sit outside on a bench eating the ice cream. Its not really summer weather, but hey, why not?

Back home, there is more work to be done, but I finish early to sit on the sofa to ease my sciatica. Such is things when you get old, I suppose. The sofa is soft and means Molly can come and sit between me and the arm of the sofa, she purrs all the way through a whole episode of Time Team, I am nearly as happy.

I finish off the flower bed, plant the roses and water them in. Job done. I am supervised by Scully who is keen to make sure I have no kitty kibbles down there, she is excited when I get the boxes of bonemeal and rose food out of the shed, but is disappointed when it turns out not to be kibbles.

I make breaded pork and lentil dahl for dinner. A dinner of champions. In anticipation, I open a bottle of Leffe Rituel, at 9% a powerful beer, and as is usual, a 70cl bottle. Now I will say in mitigation that I had bought it to give a friend when we met in London, but he bailed, and so I have a bottle of beer in the fridge. So, I open it when I start to cook, and all is going well until I get a call from Jools to say she is stuck in traffic heading down into Dover. She may be some time.

I take a sip of beer.

And another.

By the time she gets back, I have drunk one healthy glass and pour a second, leaving just a mouthful in the bottle. I finish off the pork, warm the lentils through and serve. Lovely.

You will not be surprised to hear that there was football on the radio, so I sit at the table, listening and following the banter on Twitter. It am the modern way.

And that was Tuesday.