Tuesday 4th August 2020

Tuesday.

Jools says she has lost track of time, and its only because I am working she knows it is a weekday. I have to admit, sometimes I struggle. There is something to be said for work and keeping a routine.

I suppose.

It is to be another sunny and slightly warmer day, each day this week will be warmer, until Friday when it will be warmer here than on the surface of the sun.

Or something.

We get up, have coffee before I go to do a session on the new cross trainer. Its not fun, it squeaks and groans as we use it, but we seem to be getting used to it. I do 14 minutes, not a huge amount, but my arm aches, and it seems enough. I planned to do another session later in the day.

Planned.

There is breakfast to prepare and eat, second coffee to make and drink, and the early morning meeting to attend. Nothing important to report.

The morning drags, but the afternoon would be packed with stuff.

We have ham rolls and beer chutney for lunch. And brews. Huge, if true.

For the first part of the afternoon, we have a Zoom meeting with the solicitor, mainly to answer our endless questions, mainly about when we would see the money. It turns out it would probably be September. Lots of other stuff to discuss, but for the most part, all is in place for our solicitor's annual vacation from 17:00 that evening, but all is in place, paperwork has been submitted and just needs to be dated.

Don't panic.

In other words.

When we were done, our old friends, Gary and Julie, arrive.

Hello!

We were expecting them to be honest, and had bought beer, wine, presse, peanuts, cheesy nibbles, tortillas. We retire to the bottom patio to talk and eat and drink whilst observing social distancing.

Two hours pass.

We were joined at one point by a dragonfly, Gary keeps an eye on it until I return with camera to snap it. I get closer until with it's multi-lensed eyes, it sees me and flies off. But I have my shot.

By the time they leave at five, it was too late for phys. It wasn't, but I had no enthusiasm.

I make dinner.

Dinner was breaded chicken in rolls, with slaw instead of butter. Fit for kings. Or Gods.

And then there was the rush to get everything completed before the final domestic game of the season: the Championship Final between Fulham and Brentford.

And it was shit.

Full of mistakes.

Neither team deserved to win, but Fulham did, by two extra time goals, by which time Jools was up on the cliffs watching the just past full moon rise over Calais.

I stay home to watch football and drink sloe port.