Friday 14th August 2020

This was the last chance of us getting thunderstorms this week. Or so the BBC weather said.

But as the day went on, the potential arrival of any thunder was pushed back and back, until it disappeared.

In the end we got no thunder. No rail.

Just leaden skies, cool breezes, which meant we did sleep better, and woke up refreshed.

And it was Friday. I should have done phys, but said to myself: Monday. I'll do it Monday.

We shall see.

Jools went to the garden to pick raspberries, and came back with nearly a pound. More than enough for breakfast.

And so, it was time for work. News from Aarhus where the lockdown means only masks on public transport are needed, but work in head office is restricted, with only every other desk able to be manned.

There is a surge in cases all over Europe, and it will come here, but in the UK, Johnson unlocks further, despite cases being double what they were a month ago. At least we can get our nails done now, or a new tattoo.

I need neither.

So I work, as next week, and hold your excitement. I am travelling. Out of Kent. To Hampshire and the Isle of Wight! It will be the first time since March 13th I would have left Kent, but between now and Tuesday, a lot can happen. My half minion and I have hotel rooms booked, and a ferry to the island.

More of that next week, of course. But this week is all about preparing for the audit. I am surprisingly professional about it, and the morning actually flies by.

The days stays cool, which helps.

Kittens eat breakfast then sleep for 6 hours. Mulder and Scully now come back into the house, so we are hopeful the worse is over in the mixing of the old and new. I hoped that they used to vanish for 12 hours was due to the hot weather rather than about the kittens.

In other good news this week, we received full refunds for the aborted holiday to Svalbard. It took longer than I would have thought, but we were able to pay off credit cards, and we can rest easier now. The decision to go on holiday meant that we had to pay the balance on the credit card, and circumstances meant we never really paid that much off. All gone now, or most of it.

I resist the temptation to look for a turnip in the country to retire to, and instead go back to work.

Its odd, the urge to buy things for the sake of it, like CDs, DVDs and so on has gone. I puy LPs sometimes, and books. Meaning I have time to mess around online, editing photos, writing and following the clusterfuck that is Brexit and the UK's response to the virus. My mental wellbeing would be better if I just bought stuff, as knowing this shit doesn't stop more from happening.

We have lunch, Scotch Egg salad. And for those of you not from the UK, a Scotch egg is a boiled egg, wrapped in sausage meat, breadcrumbed and then fried. It is nicer than it sounds, and is a staple of picnics, salads and pub snacks the country over.

We eat those with slaw, potato salad and the last of the linseeded wholemeal bread. It was quite a feast.

The afternoon dragged until the clock reached three, and I pack up for the day. Jools had gone to read upstairs on the bed, but fell asleep cuddled up to Mulder. Just like she used to.

I put the radio on, do some writing, and the afternoon slips by.

We were to have chorizo hash, but I felt like doing something different, and find a recipe online for chorizo and chickpea stew. We have all the ingredients, so that's settled. To go with it, I make a batch of potato bread, and as we only have jacket spuds, they are large, and the bread requires equal amounts of flour. I make them, divide into two small loaves and put in the oven.

The stew only takes ten minutes or so to cook, and all is ready at half five, dished up and eaten with a glass or two of red wine.

Man that was good, but too much bread, we both fail to eat all of it.

The day fades, we sit on the patio until nine, when it was time for Gardener's World, though there was no Monty this week. At the same time Bayern was playing Barca in the CL, and in a remarkable game, they share ten goals, but with Bayern scoring eight (8). The days of being scared by those red and blue striped shirts is long gone.

Time for bed.