We managed to change over without too much of a problem. I added the new password and that was it for the computer. We had slightly more trouble with the TV as the password is long and complicated and so id the process for entering it, with lots of keystrokes needed. It all goes to show how different I am from the average hacker. They can open up your secrets despite layers of security, I can just about change a password in three attempts,, as long as I have my reading glasses and reasonable light.

So that is why I am writing not one post, not two posts, but three posts today.

Unfortunately it’s the only work I have done today, but as I have also been for a blood test (which didn’t happen, for a number of reasons), to fill the car and to visit the doctor my day has not been entirely wasted. I was also able to sit and watch TV in a nice warm room with Julia. We had bacon sandwiches after the engineer left, the had cheese and biscuits and the last of the Christmas cake for a late lunch before ending the day with vegetable stew.

It wasn’t a bad day and gives me another chance to quote the Omar Khayyam and the verse I used in a comment earlier in the week.

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse — and Thou
     Beside me singing in the Wilderness —
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

Meanwhile, the receptionist at the doctor’s was having a bad morning and clearly wondering about where the glamour had gone. No “angels” for her (only nurses qualify as angels) and no romance with a dashing doctor as is so often found in novels of the Mills & Boon persuasion.

All she got was a 68-year-old who was struggling to coordinate his ancient mobile  phone with the NHS app. (No, not me – I’m not 68 – though the rest is accurate) and a woman needing a sputum pot and bottle for a urine sample.

I’m afraid I didn’t really raise the tone much.

“I have a urine sample to hand in.” I said.

“Does it have your name on it?” she asked.

For a moment I thought of seaside rock with the name written all the way through it, and permitted myself a moment of frivolity.

“Yes.” I said, coming back to reality, because I’d used the paper label stuck to the pot.

I wonder if she will ever know that this moment has been enshrined in prose by a well-known local poet and blogger. If the mood takes me, I may even write a poem about it. However, my next challenge is selecting suitable photographs for this post . . .

Winter Aconites