Monday 22nd March 2021

Monday, Monday.

THe previous week finishes with frustration, so the new week begins with hope, and yet by the end of the day there is another wave of frustration sweeping over.

Initially it was said the new/old company would look at best practice to combine the best of the two, but that has fallen away and now its just there way. Which is the way the world operates, I guess.

In a surprise moove, we both sleep through the alarm, and don't wake up until twenty to six, meaning there is little time to get up and drink coffee and so on before it is time to start thinking about starting work.

It was to be a glorious day, but there was work, and meetings, and phone calls, and more meetings. And confusion.

Breakfast was taken at nine, fruit and yogurt as usual, and a third coffee, and by that time I was almost human again. Lunch was the remainder of the sourdough loaf with lashings of Nutella smothered over it, and a huge brew.

Yes, very nice indeed.

The day progresses, and we think there is progress made, which is an improvement on most days since the beginning of last month.

I take time out to wander round the garden, check on the newty tadpoles, which seem to be more animated, all wriggling in the warm sunshine, and elsewhere there flowers that were spikes with buds are now in flower. The Imperials are now producing buds, and the garden is flooded with their scent, it is spring.

Lunch is warmed up chorizo hash, which is most splendid I have to say, and would have been perfect with an ice cold beer, but it is mOnday; a day day and I was still working. Ahem.

I excel myself with dinner, as I created something new: cheese and crushed pistachio stuffed breaded chicken breasts, with noodles and sweet chilli stir fry.

It was good, though the cheese did overpower the pistachios, but was really very good indeed, and would have been better with some red wine, but instead there was squash and soda.

And for a change, there was no football to follow, as it is an international "break" week.

Now, I like football, and it has helped to keep me sane, though there is so much of it, games run into each other, teams play each other in a never-ending carousel of football, all played to a fake soundtrack of computer generated crowd noises. Games finish, and in ten minutes a new one begins. It should matter, but doesn't really. Well, it does, but without crowds to make the point, LIverpool v Everton could be Carlton v Pakefield, only the quality of the football is better, and they're not playing on a public park.

So, I read the book I went to Deal to buy the night before, a book on an engineering marval that once carried coal from the coal mine in Tilmanstone to Dover Harbour.

I went to bed, no music, no football, just words.