Friday 17th November 2023

Friday.

We rose at dawn, and soon a burning ball of gas rose in the east, casting light and warmth on the land.

Apparently, it's called the Sun.

Or something.

Yes, the rain broke, meaning, for one day at least, there would be sunshine, no wind, no rain.

Lovely.

Its the usual Friday morning: Jools went to yoga, I put the bins out and filled up the feeders.

Scully meowed indicating that I should sit on the bench on the top patio. But it has several days dreich soaked into its timbers, so no sitting outside, for a while.

Anyway, I had work to do.

And I had the task I had been putting off for three days, booking my hotel in France for my trip at the end of next weekend.

I found a place, chose a room, and tried to book.

I was trying to use my company credit card, but the booking was hung up waiting on verification.

So, meanwhile, I went to the card's website, downloaded the app, entered in my details, requested, received and tapped in a code to show I wasn't a robot.

The booking went through.

Job's a good un.

In a turn up, I had a fine end to the working day, when I received a call, and during which I found a director who I had previously thought was useless, did in fact share my views on a number of issues, and it was altogether rather pleasant.

Not that we sorted anything, but I am not a lone knight wielding the bright sword of truth.

Gave me a nice warm feeling inside. As I said in the meeting, sometimes I sit here thinking I know nothing, then in meetings, words and ideas tumble out of my mouth.

Good ideas.

Sometimes, I don't know who's more surprised when it happens.

I finished for the day, and decided what with it being sunny, not windy, and quite warm, I would go out for a walk.

I had to find my ear pods first, then find something to listen to. So, I lined up an episode of Danny Baker's Treehouse, which made the walk fly by.

I have to subscribe to it now, which will mean I have three years of shows to catch up with. Well worth four quid a month, I think.

I have ended my subscription for the Rail magazine now. The entire editorial team has either retired or resigned, showing things not going well at Emap Towers.

Anyway, back to the walk: not far, just up and down the roads of our small estate, with a final stop to look on the Winter Heliotropes, the first of next year's flowers.

The walk zipped by. And the Heliotropes had put forth a fresh bed of hoof-shaped leaves.

There was chicken in a bun for supper, before clearing up and me settling down beside Scully on the sofa to watch the England game on the tellybox.

A pisspoor game that somehow England won, and another two hours of my life I will never get back.