Sunday 14th December 2025

Sunday.

Do we really need to go to the gym?

Well, yes.

Thing is, Sunday at the gym is the quietest, no more that ten people in, and quite relaxed.

And the car park is nearly empty, which may not count for much, but there are folks who arrive and drive the wrong way round the one way system, so they shave 10 seconds off their visit, and is, obviously, an accident waiting to happen.

Anyway.

After coffee, we leave at five to seven, get there at five past, and up to the studio where I ride a new route round San Francisco, alongside cable car lines and through Chinatown, though I didn't see Jack Nicholson.

And back home at eight, and the rest of the day to relax. To listen to Radcliffe and Maconie, have another brew and breakfast of pigs in blankets in rolls.

Which worked very well.

I have a shave, shower and change into clean clothes, put on aftershave and deodorant.

Its a fine feeling.

Not only that, I've not had ulcers or banged my legs causing wounds for nearly two months now. My legs don't ache, I don't have permanent pins and needles in my feet.

I won't say I feel nearly normal, as I'm not sure what normal is, but you know, I realise how bad I was six months back, and I have no desire to go back there.

Jools wraps the last of the Christmas presents, and is "helped" by Mulder who is just there. Meowing.

She did finish, and all in a bag ready to be distributed among friends and family.

For the afternoon there is, of course, football. The weather outside had turned from sunny to cold and cloudy, so no point in going out.

There was the Tyne-Wear Derby, with Sunderland winning 1-0 thanks to a fabulous own goal, which was followed by the dullest Brentford v Leeds game, which ended 1-1.

Just time after for a plate of party food and a Christmas beer before returning to #WildflowerHour and it was time for bed.