Wednesday 8th March 2017

After the glorious weather and wonderful events of Tuesday, Wednesday was the opposite. Dawn was already abroad as we rose when the alarm sounded, but what she revealed was a dank scene, thick fog obscured the view of the valley much beyond the end of the garden.

Best make coffee, put the heating on and see what had happened in the world outside. Each morning brings Trump's latest Twitter tirade; it is, of course, a diversion as to what his cabinet is doing: reimposing travel bans, Trumpcare (don't care), oil pipelines, drilling in the Caribbean. And so on. But while the media concentrates on his latest wild claims, the mechanism of democracy is being taken apart. Piece by piece.

Rain begins to fall outside, the cats are not happy, but with the heating on, it doesn't feel quite so cold. Jools gets ready for work, and leaves me at home to have breakfast and then begin to work.

There is always work to be done, meetings to attend and so sit and listen. Looking in the fridge I could find no meat for sandwiches, so I look through the fridge, freezer and pantry, and find nothing. It means the old fall back: short cakes.

Soon the house is filled with the smell of baking, and in twenty minutes I have batches of cakes from both ovens, cooling on wire trays. I boil the kettle for a brew, a large brew I decide. As I had made a particually large one for lunch, and so soon I was tucking into the cake, sipping from my huge cuppa listening to the radio.

In the afternoon the sky falls. For some reason, Wednesday afternoon was the time for panic to take hold So I fill the hours in the afternoon fixing things. That I did, and so at half three, Molly and myself take our place on the sofa for some Time Team action. It may not be rock and roll, but we both seem quite happy with things.

As I cook chorizo hash, I crack open another bottle of beer, and so time goes very well, listening to Steve Lamaqc as I get creative. Although I can make hash with my eyes closed now.

Chorizo hash is great, as it always is of course. Jools arrives home just as I was finishing up, so we have platefulls of hash, and a glass of wine, or cider, and all seems well with the world.

Its been a quiet day, and ends with more football on the radio, but even I tire of it as Citeh are being held by Stoke, and it seems Barca are going out of Europe being 5-3 down on aggregate with ten minutes to go. What I didn't realise was that I was going to miss the most extra-ordinary ending to a game, ever, as they score three times in the final two minutes and injury time, to win the game 6-5, and complete the most remarkable of comebacks against PSG. We go to bed at half nine, outside mist had risen in the dip, but above the now three-quarter full moon shining down from an almost clear sky.

Good night.