Thursday 17th December 2020

Last working day of 2020.

Probably.

I suppose this December, we will be looking back in an even more melancholy manner than in previous years. What with the trips and olidays not taken, new people we did not meet, old friends we could not meet, and those that we have lost through the year to COVID and other things.

I am not boastful when I say that we got off lucky. I know that. Heck, we know that.

Even still, I had some 14 days of holiday to take, I could carry just 5 over, so nine to take: four from Christmas Eve and the three days between then and New Year, so I had to take an extra five days, starting with the end of work on Thursday.

So that was nice.

And to begin the working day was the morning meeting, and for a special treat, our ex-boss had arranged "friendly" quiz for us to compete in. It was the Good Girls v the Naughty Boys, and nine questions based on the department. It was an online thing, and great fun, and even better was that the Naughty Boys romped to a convincing win.

Yay, us!

I do my working hours for the next two weeks, log my time off, bank holidays, then put my mind to tacking the last of the outstanding issues, the outstanding audit findings. And of course the findings are outstanding, not because I raised them, bu they did cock all to address them. I send a hand grenade wrapped in an e mail, and that's done.

Time for a brew and some toast. The frozen bread had stuck together, and prising them apart created crumbs and frozen bread fragments, so is another first world problem. I made do with the doule thick crust and thrown that under the grill.

Yummy.

And that really is that.

There was another townhall meeting. Still no news, but nearer to tell you something. But not yet.

Sigh.

Too early for wine?

And as I was just winding down to a speed I would hardly move, I get notification that a proposed trip to Hartlepool was deemed business critical, so I have to wind myself up and book a hire car and hotel for the second week in January. That'll be exciting, if it goes ahead.

I get confirmation by the time I finish at four that the car and hotel are booked.

I write my out of office mesage, adding with a florsh that my new phone still has not arrived, so can't be called for the duration, either.

Job done.

Day done.

Year done.

I go out for a walk as the sun did break through, not far just on a plant hunt, really. I know to look and pretty sure of what I'll find.

I walk along the street, then up the path to Collingwood so I can check on the Winter Heliotrope and banks of holly beyond.

Not much to see, just a small flock of chaffinches feeding in the juice of the midden. Remnd me not to come back as a chaffinch.

I get to Fleet House, there was no point in going further as The Dip and down by the farm would be impassable due to mud. I could wade through, but not that bothered, really.

I turn for home, down the arrow path, past the butterfly glade and over the field, literally, as the path was too muddy to walk through. I arrive home as the sun dipped behind clouds, meaning the grand conjunction would be obscurred. Again.

Dinner is to be courgette fritters, so once home I prepare those to a Lamacq soundtrack, all Britpop and post punk joy.

I sing while I cook.

Jools gets home at ten to six, I start cooking, ladling the sludge into the frying pan. They smell wonderful.

Of course.

We eat them up, with me making another bottle of Belgian Christmas ale disappear.

The evening is yet more football, this time on Amazon, which means having to watch it on the tablet, as the smart TV only shows films on Amazon. Don't blame me, I don't makes the rules.

Anyway, Sheffield Utd v Man Utd, each trying to outdo each other in the "who's got the shittiest goalkeeper" competition, with Man Utd coming out 3-2 winners.

Time for bed.