Tuesday 15th March 2022

It is starting to get light now when we get up. Even more so when Jools turns the alarm off and turns over to sleep. Which meant by quarter to six when I surfaced, it was pretty much daylight.

Jools makes a brew, and I drink while surveying the horror that man inflicts on his fellow man, in the name of hate.

The world is just a horrible place right now.

But I don't have that long to dally around, as I have to start work at seven.

However, I have to make bread or otherwise I would have nothing to eat for lunch. Not quite true, there would be something to eat, just not warm and crusty. So, I make a batch of dough, knead it well and place into a greased tin to rise.

I put it under the kitchen window, so I can keep an eye on it when I was working, to ensure it doesn't overflow the tin and escape.

I have meetings and phone calls, but I do remember to put the loaf in the oven to cook, set the timer so that during a meeting I would turn the loaf out and then crisp the bottom.

That was done, so that when the meeting ended, I could make a brew and have a thick crust smothered in butter and jam to go with the tea.

Yummy.

I nip out to check on the local colony of Coltfoot, which grow at the entrace of a house on Collingwood, but are in the shadow on a hedge, and as they only open in direct sunlight, and then close up in the afternoon, there is less than an hour to catch them in flower.

So after elevenis of the fresh bread, I take the path between to houses to Collingwood and along to the Coltsfoot, and the single plant from two years back is now a dozen, so I snap them from all angles, and groups like I was snapping a wedding.

Then up to the war memorial and along, round the paddock, but nothing really to see, except for a few seconds I I saw a basking Peacock butterfly on the path. I try to creep up to get a shot, but it senses my approach and flies off.

I trudge back home, checking the lane for signs of Dense-flowered Fumitory, because the village is a stronghold for what is a rare plant. But there is no sign.

I go home.

And back to work.

I finish at half three, pack up cear up the kitchen, all ready for preparing dinner for when Jools got home. I made shepherd's pie, made with the leftover lamb and gravy from Sunday lunch, I also thwon in an onion, the two rashers of bacon and half a can of leftover baked beans. I boil diced potatoes, add butter and cheese, and then bake for 40 minutes.

It didn't look pretty, but I can confirm it was glorious.

The evening has football to entertain me: Championship on Sky and follow Man Utd's latest defeat via the BBC website.

Still, something to make me smile.