Sunday 4th February 2018

I laid in bed until twenty past eight, awoken by Scully came back to bed, stomping on my feet in order to get me to give up the 5% of the bed she could not use.

Jools makes coffee and I watch the football, she decides to do some phys. Now, in an ideal world I would have followed her, but that would mean not having breakfast until after ten. I'll do it later I heard myself saying.

Once Jools has done her session, I put the grill on and begin the ritual bacon cooking. Hmmmm, there really is no better smell than cooking bacon. Well, when it comes to cooking smells anyway. We have our bacon butties, huge brews and the football is watched, I edit some shots, listen to the radio and the morning passes with outside alternating bright sunshine and heavy hail showers.

And much to everyone's surprise, including Scully who was hoping I was going to bed some 12 hours early, I go to the spare room to do my session on the cross trainer, made bearable by Pat Benatar's greatest hits. I huff and puff my way through Heartbreaker, Hit Me With Your Best Shot, Shadows of the Night and so on and on. And I did it.

For lunch I make insalata and butter some bread, and why not have some wine. Why not indeed. Three glasses for lunch wasn't perhaps the best thing, but at least I didn't snooze during the afternoon. And outside the temperature dropped further, and Jools announced that it was too cold to work in the garden. I didn't argue.

There is football on the radio, blogs to write, and sleep to battle.

Outside the day fades, the clouds darken and more hail falls. The cats are happy enough to stay inside and demand more food.

I pack my case for the morning, have a shower then make dinner of cheese on toast and some dreadful ready made cocktail sausage rolls. But hey, party food.

And so the weekend passes yet again. Tomorrow I am off to the tundra in Denmark again. So, see you at the weekend.