Saturday 13th December 2025

Today, Saturday, the sun sets at its earliest. Although mornings will get shorter, and the days themselves until the 21st, the afternoons will lengthen, and the evenings come later.

Light will win.

Again.

Saturday rolls around again, but this one finds me home alone, though Jools was due back later.

The gym doesn't open until seven, so in theory I can lay in to six, but there is Scully to think of. In that her injections should be 12 hours apart, give or take half an hour.

And delaying the injection, testing and feeding to six of an evening would mean a chorus of meows from all four cats for several hours, it was best to be up at twenty past five, then test, inject and feed Scully, and then the rest of the cats.

Then make coffee.

Clear the half-eaten bowls of the three healthy cats, so that Scully does not eat the kibbles and so increase her blood sugars.

Would I go to the gym?

No one would know if I didn't, except myself, but I really don't mind the phys now. I can listen to a podcast as I peddle, and at weekends, the place is really very quiet.

So I leave at seven, the roads were quiet, and light was beginning to show on the horizon, a promise of a fine and sunny day.

I cycled round Vienna, though it "meant nothing to me", whilst listening to a description of the 1980 Runaround Christmas Special TV show, hosted by Frank Butcher, sorry, Mike Read.

The thing about this series of podcasts, is that they're 35 or so minutes long, just about perfect for my forty minutes on the treader.

I am don, so go back downstairs, don't go to the café, back to the car and drive home, getting back at ten past eight.

I had, I guessed, correctly as it turned out, to about three before Jools would arrive back at Martin Mill. All I had to do was tidy up, feed myself and vacuum the living room like I promised.

Just don't get diverted.

I get diverted, but there was enough time to have breakfast, and then get the Hoover out, though not made by Hoover, and give the kitchen and living room a good going over, all before midday when the football was due to start.

And Norwich were on, playing in-form team, Southampton, at home.

Potatoes had been peeled, left to soak, drained, soaked, drained, boiled and left to steam dry, all ready to cook an early dinner of hash when Jools came home.

Southampton started like an express train, and could have scored three in the first ten minutes.

I could barely watch.

But Norwich got better and began to match the visitors.

Just after half time Norwich scored a fine goal, but conceded five minutes later.

A winner was scrambled over the line by young centre forward, Jovon Makama , with his hand.

The referee didn't see it, so it stood, and Norwich easily held out to win. Again.

Jools arrived back at Martin Mill at twenty past three. I went to pick her up and drive her up the hill home.

And once back I cooked the vegetables, chorizo and potatoes so we sat down to eat at twenty past four, as the main batch of game reached their crescendos.

It was good to have Jools back. I even told her so.

And despite being away nearly three days, the thought of two more hours of football was too much, so she went upstairs to craft and listen to some music.

Peace and normality had returned to Chez Jelltex.