Friday 12th March 2021

And we have made it to Friday, people.

Nearly at the end of the week, and we have a team meeting at half seven where we will try to get each other in a social manner. The result is detailed in the previous blog, where each person recounted the situation where they live. The outcome being that it is not just the UK where things are bad: most of Europe is suffering, mainy from fatigue, COVID fatigue, we want to hug our friends and family, go to pubs and restaurants.

It was had a year ago, but through the long dark days of winter after the year we have had has been very difficult.

For some, the young and healthy, the tunnel seems very long still, with escape maybe a year away.

In Italy, Denmark and India, restrictions are being strengthened, as COVID rises again, and for many, vaccne is so far away.

Sobering, if I'm honest.

And as a species, if that is what we are, none of us will be safe until we're all vaccinated, and that could have been done in double quick time, this year, if the vaccine patents were waived.

But they were not.

The meeting ends at eight my time, and I get back to work, trying to decide what needs to be done this week, and what needs thinking about over the weekend.

Jools has her morning brew, then is gone to Tesco and then to Jen's for yoga, while I work away.

The wind continued to blow, and by the time Jools came back laden with shopping, it was throwing it down. I take a shot before helping get the shopping in and put it away, so I know what I can cook in the coming week.

She is then off out again to the tip to drop more stuff off. I carry on working.

Back home, so I warm the leftover curry, boil some rice and microwave the remaining naans for a fine lunch. Who knew leftovers could be so good?

Jen comes at two, we have a game of Meld, then it is time to try to catch Poppy as she has an appointment at the vet. She has blood in her wee, she had an accident on the divet last Sunday, so this was the first chance we had to take her. After an hour, Jools catches her and takes the poor kitty to Whitfield, where the diagnosis is stress.

She is holding her wee in, causing her bladder to stretch and bleed. We have to try and destress her. We have drugs.

Back home, Poppy is a changed cat; she sits with us, meows for dinner, sits on the wondowsill where Scully likes to sit, she then lays in the living room, washing as though there was never anything wrong.

Jen and Jools pays Scrabble, and I wait for the music quiz at six. I don't do wel, but taking part is where its at, right?

I have made tacos for dinner. I made the filling. Anyway. I cooked the tomato and chilli sauce in the morning, butchered the chicken thighs in the afternoon and marinated it in the sauce. The final part was cooking the mix and seving with toasted taco shells.

And beer.

It was good.

Very good.

We pay Meld again, and I win!

Yay.

Nothing on the tellybox this evening, but the Don is back next week, it must be spring!