Monday 2nd March 2020

And, back to work. Just like that.

Not like that.

The weekend just slips through our fingers and is gone in a flash.

If not quicker.

Jools is up and about before me, but soon I smell coffee brewing, and that is my alarm call.

It is now light at quarter past six, and the sun up less than half an hour later, but by then I have done my session on the cross trainer and was thinking about breakfast.

And onto work, with things to sort out and meetings to attend to, trips to plan.

The morning slips by, while outside it is all grey and cold, though not that windy. It feels too cold to be outside though. BUt the garden is waking up, 15 imperialis now showing in the two beds, and their scent beginning to fill the garden with a heady spring-like fragrance.

Cheese toasties for lunch, and then the nes that Jools has left her yoga kit behind so will be home at normal time, and so I now have to prepare something else for dinner. It is to be pasta and ragu, but the sauce needs making, so on with the garlic gently fried, add the tomatoes, and let simmer for an hour.

Midway through the afternoon, add the sausage meat, onions, simmer for an hour, add some wine and herbs, and all done.

We are trying to cut down, so no garlic bread. Just slices of bread, with no butter.

At four I do another session on the cross trainer, then have a shower and get dressed. Always best to do that so the neighbours don't complain. Again.

And so when Jools comes home, cook the pasta, serve, pour wine. I mean, I will give up garlic bread, Parmesan cheese, but I draw the line at wine.

It is fine, and fills us up enough.

We wash up, make coffee while Marc Riley plays some records on the wireless.

And I am knackered. I mean pooped. It was all I could do to say awake until nine, then clean my teeth and crash out.