Tuesday 8th December 2020

Many things have gotten me through the last eight months. I mean, having a job that pretty much I can be sure will pay me each month has helped, as has being able to pay the mortgage off. We live on the edge of a village on the north downs, a walk in the country bgins a few dozen steps from our back door. Or front door. A walk in the woods or on the downs is a short drive away, and was only out of bounds for a few weeks. And I have Jools. And the cats. And now the kittens. And photography. Music.

On top of all the above has been new stuff, like podcasts.

I listen to one, a Word in Your Ear, or now A Word in Your Attic, as the editors of the now defunct Word magazine Zoom call their friends and other people in the music business to talk about music, their lives, houses and so on. And music collections, the best gigs they have been to and ending with what you think the best record of all time was.

There are several of these a week, and I have listened to every one, and am now a Paetron backer, which means I get to watch the video of the calls, take part in a music quiz on Friday evenings and on my birthday they will call me and make me the subject of one of these calls.

And there is radio.

With no football for three months, the radio has become ever more important, and with the return of something close to normality, we still listen to a lot of it. Marc Riley is on 6 Music weekday evenings, and he and his sidekick, Rob Hughes, have done informative and humorous series of shots for many years. Their most recent thing as been their A-Z series, with Punk, Prog and Rock having been done, and their grandest series, the A-Z of David Bowie was released to buy as a memory stick, which I bought one of the last tranche of 30 produced, and that came yesterday.

I just need time to listen to the 60 hours of material.

Anyway, to Tuesday.

And if I am honest, I don't feel too sharp. I suffered with cramp all through the night, then slept through the alarm and woke up with Jools saying goodbye as she had to go to work. It was nearly half six, and too late to do any phys. I got up and felt so washed out.

Jools had left me a coffee beside my computer, so drank that while checking the interwebs and find little had changed, at least in the UK.

Somehow the morning rushed forward meaning it was soon time to start work. I felt like doing none.

I thought that an early lunch, after deciding that I did not feel like fruit and yogurt, I had some left over roast potatoes from the night before. If I sliced those, fried them up, sprinkle with salt and vinegar and dip in Belgian mayo, that would be a fine meal? I thought so too. So, I fire the fryer up, foot tapping waiting for it to reach frying temperature. I slice the cold spuds, then pour them in the hot oil, wait 5 minutes, drain and sprinkle them with salt and vinegar. I empty the last of a container of mayo on the plate, serve with a large, fresh brew.

And make vanish.

Lovely.

But, there was something wrong, I don't feel well, I might be ill. My stomach agreed and sent brunch back up from the way it came.

Just what I needed. I just make it to the downstairs facility, as I retch some more.

I know that the egg intolerance had come back, but didn't think that the egg in mayo would be enough to trigger an attack.

I was wrong.

I felt worse.

I struggle on through the day, making sure I drank enough, but ate nothing else.

I slumped in the office chair and watched another Japanese train video as I monitored the work e mails.

Not much happened.

Despite all of this, I did do a session on the cross trainer, though I did sit on the edge of the bed for 15 minutes wondering if it was really a wise thing to do.

In the end, I decided it probably wouldn't kill me, and I could stop if I felt worse.

I do the session, and finish it. Which was good, and I go for a shower as the sun set outside.

Dinner was easy: just warm up the ragu I made the day before, and cook the pasta. The leftover baguette I could have thrown out, but I sliced and soak in butter for an hour, then gently fry just before serving, they make the best garlic bread.

Jools was late coming home, more delays caused by more new freight checks at Dover, she had to travel slowly along the A20 to Dover, past miles and miles of trucks, getting home just before six.

Dinner was ready.

I wasn't really hungry, but eat, and good news that I have my sense of smell and taste, so not COVID.

Jools washed up made a cuppa and I spent the evenin on the sofa listening to the radio until nine, at which point I was so tired.