A glorious morning dawned, but we missed dawn and sunrise, sleeping through until after seven, even the cats let us sleep, happy to have us near them, as they jostle for the best places on the bed.
By the time we were up, had coffee and woken up, and I had watched half of MOTD, it was nearly nine, and I was really hungry, so got my arse in gear and put the grill on make bacon butties. There is something Sunday morning about the sound of TSP being grilled, the kettle boiling and brews being made. Especially with warm sunshine pouring through the kitchen window. It's nice having such a day off.
We take our time in clearing up, washing up and getting dressed, so there was no excuse in not going out for a walk. 
Anyway, it is a while since I had walked over the fields, on such a glorious day as this, clear blue skies, warm (for November) sunshine, warm enough not to wear a jacket and no breeze. I was on the look out for plants still in flower, and found some. Just need it ID them really, as some seem to be variations on dandelions.
At the glade we spot a single Red Admiral, looking tatty but finding nectar on an ivy bush, and feeding well, stayed long enough so both I and Jools could take photos of it. The colours of the trees down by the pig's copse was stunning, all yellow and golden, contrasting with the deep blue sky behind. 
We walk on, instead of going down the dip, we take the road up to Windy Ridge, no other reason than there were the possibility of there being sloes up there. Jools' brother wanted to make sloe gin, but the season is now very old, so it was a long shot. We walk through the woods, only finding some King Alfred's Cakes on an old rotten log, before leaving the wood where the mother lode of sloes could be found. There were a few withered and/or rotten about 12 feet off the ground. So no sloes.
From there is is pretty much downhill back home, passing by paddocks with a sorry looking horse in each, none of which seem minded to welcome visitors, and just munch on already short grass.
Back home I make a brew and we relax in the warm of the house. 
Before lunch I go to Tesco to pick up a box of wine,a s I had bottled the sloe gin we made in September, and now had to make sloe port. No had to, but I'd like to. So I had to buy a couple of bottles, but make do with a box.Back home I pour two a bit bottles worth of red wine, then half a bottle of sherry for fortification purposes, top of with sugar and shake.
And there is football on the radio. Lots of football. 6 hours worth. So, with tasks to do inside, I mess around, listen to the footy whilst farting about, as you do. Chelsea win. Citeh win. Man Utd lose. Arsen lose. Situation normal then.
I cook chorizo hash for dinner, and open a bottle of pink fizz I had to buy from Tesco, at a fiver a bottle! But it is good, only Cava, but good enough when half your taste buds are dead from picante Spanish paprika.
After dinner we get a call from Sheila: she was visiting Mum that afternoon when it was discovered that six inches of sutures in Mum's leg had popped, and there was a six inch gash in her leg, and was also infected. Another massive step backwards for Mum. I am really in a quandary as to what to do, stay here and leave tasks up to Sheila, or go up and hang around like a spare part, or worse, travel to Papworth every day if she is transferred.
What a mess, and avoidable. I am tired of it, and I'm sure Mum is, but then she could and should have avoided it.
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