Tuesday 3rd August 2021

I have tasks to do.

But my get up and go has got up and gone.

I can't explain, maybe its a bit of "what's the point, so much is screwed"? And it's all going to change on the 16th, possibly.

I have heavily overdue travel expenses to do, but i need a form which I have to sign, and I have no way of printing as HP make it impossible to get the right replacement one, so its only good for scanning. I send forms to Jools, she prints them out, and brings them home. Or when she remembers. Which she has failed to do again, so I will further upset the lady in finance.

So it goes.

I have to make bread as we're out, and quite frankly I make a good loaf so its no real chore, it just means that it won't be ready until late morning, but what the heck. I am back on the white flour, and so add some seeds to the top and sides, once the dough has risen and placed in the tin to rise a second time.

I did take a shot of the loaf once it was out of the oven, but I had the card in wrong and it didn't save the shot. So, you'll have to imagine how wonderful it looked, all covered in seeds and all golden brown.

I can't wait for it to cool down for long, so I cut one of the crusts off, butter it and smother with nutella. I make a fresh coffee and so have a very fine early lunch. And it was every bit as good as you can imagine.

I press on with work, though the stupidity of some is mindblowing and by half two I was done. So I switched the laptop off But instead of going for a walk, I do some gardening.

Deadheading needs to be done, so more flowers will appear. So Monty says.

I do the roses, sunflowers and then onto the tobacco plants, and on and one. I do over an hour, which is amazig as usually I get a bad back or bored. Or both, but I get lots done, so Jools won't have to do it that night, so can go walking, or whatever.

I prepare dinner; crispbakes, curried rice and stir fry.

All full of flavour and ready for when Jools came home.

We have coffee. And chocolate, listen to the radio, and so the evening slipped by, being dark, or nearly, by the time we went to bed at quarter past nine.