Thursday 14th December 2017

Each of my working days this week have been taken over by at least half by meetings or webinars. Its bad enough to sit in a room when there is a meeting going on, but to be on the other end of a Skype conference call, it audio dropping in and out, tech problems and when the audio does work, if the speaking not on top of the mic, then it comes as garbled.

And I am supposed to be following this, even when sound drops out for a minute or two.

At least it was going to be a fine, sunny and cold day. And so hopefully that meant not being bothered by cats who maybe would be out hunting or basking in the sun. Molly, however, has taken to sitting or aying bside me as I work at the dining room table. I mean she lays in the table, and no matter how many times I put her on the floor, she gets back up and stares at me. Not sure what this means, she grumbles when you ick her up. And when you don't. The vet says she is fine, but we are worried.

The day pans out as you would imagine; meetings, coffee, meetings, lunch, meeting, coffee, big meeting. Ans then it was three and my brain was melting. I had had enough. I joined Scully on the sofa with a bag of freshly popped salty corn and a bottle of silly strength Belgian beer, and settle down to watch an episode of Time Team. Te dig holes, point at soil and say there was a ditch here, and there, and over here there was a mansio, and a mighty large one too. Fnar.

Hypercourse, tessari, coins and brooches. All Roman.

And it ends with the team in a pub toasting their good fortune and another fine three day dig.

In fact, over lunchtime, I had half an hour, so with it being a glorious day, and an allergy attack had been threatening all week, I go out for a walk. Outside it is bright, I mean with the low sun in the south, it was blinding, and casting long, long shadows across the fields.

I walk to the end of the street and over the fields to Fleet house; the recent rain had turned the ground to mud, but not too deep, and the air was so clean it sparkled. Nothing to see in the pig's copse, and it would have been too slippery down the dip, so went to look down the slope to the farm, then walked back via the butterfly glade; none there now of course, but it is full of teasel and buddleia bushes gone to seed. I take shots and walk back ready for the next meeting.

Supper is jacket spuds, so I can watch MOTD from the sofa as the suds bake, ready for when Jools returns.

It is a quiet evening, we listen to some music, and drink coffee and eat ice cream. As you do.

Four working days to go.