I’m afraid it’s been another day of barely discernible enthusiasm. Thanks to my bed socks and hot water bottles I was feeling quite perky this morning as attended to a few computer jobs. I’m all set up to bid on eBay without being here and all my emails are answered, but then it started to drag.
I have to do the references for an article I’ve written and, as usual, I’ve left it all to the end. It’s not easy to be enthused about a big lump like that – I should have done it as I went along. I also have another one to start, but that ground to a halt when I couldn’t access the archive I wanted to start my research. That, to be honest, is why I prefer writing poetry – much less work.
Fortunately it was then time for Sharpe and I managed to squeeze in an episode or two of murder she wrote. We had a breakfast in a brown cob for brunch and now, in late afternoon, have just eaten crumpets. We will be rounding the day off with the remains of yesterday’s fried rice and a few Chines snacks from the supermarket. (Julia went out for a walk earlier today and decided to risk her life in the shop, buying doughnuts (which I may have forgotten to mention earlier) and Chines snacks in honour of the Chinese New Year. It was yesterday, but it’s near enough. I’d noticed dragons on Google last week but it hadn’t sunk in.
It might be the last Sharpe I see for some time if we go back to Saturday working. It’s not the end of the world, but it will be the end of a comfortable lockdown tradition.
Pictures are from our last trip to the Lakes, which now seems a lifetime ago.