Wednesday 11th December 2024

Days to do are getting few.

Is what we used to say in the military as our detachment or time in mob was getting close to being done.

We would create what was known as a chuff chart, a chart counting the days when your time was done.

I have done one for work.

There are three days left to do this year, and about twenty or so each of the first three months of the year.

Call it seventy for cash.

Getting few.

Tuesday night I wrote Christmas cards, and so on Wednesday afternoon I walked to the box on Collingwood to post them, though someone has bought the house on the corner, and the hedge that the box used to poke out is now gone, so the box is out in the open.

And then there's work.

There are tasks to be done before work ends for the year Monday evening, so I arrange some final meetings, and send out mails.

Outside its another dull and grey day, with 100% cloud cover, and the cloud being low and dark. There is little daylight, and so the table lamp stays on all day once again.

The cats sleep, I work, and the central heating fires up meaning the cats snuggle up tighter.

There are no words I can use to describe how dull and repetitive days become, so you'll have to take my work for whatever I did, it took me all day to do.

And some three in the afternoon I had done it, or as much as I was willing.

Dinner was Carbonara, so I made some garlic butter to put in the ciabatta I got the weekend, that would be bakes, and the butter melt and soak into the slices.

Once Jools was back, I boil the water for the pasta, mix the sauce with eggs and cheese, but the bread into bake once I had inserted slices of the butter in. Bring it all together.

And Mama Mia, it was wonderful. If a lot.

But even if I say so, I'm getting pretty good at this cooking lark.

There is football in the evening, more Champions League, where Citeh lose 2-0 in Turin to the Old Lady.

I laugh, and go to bed.