The short version is the S1 fitba was off. The long version is despite me seeing the pitch declared unplayable by the council,  both teams and the ref pitched up. However once the ref knew the pitch had been declared Somne-like, that was it. Out just before 8, and home around 11, soaked and frozen. Hot shower and change of clothes. 

And out again. To forage for paint for G's room, collect a blue toof speaka and grab some muffins and smoked salmon.

Late brunch then food shop under cover of darkness; a delightful supper of sweet potato chill. She is putting forward a plant based diet x2 days per week for all. So the chilli was prototype. I've been told to watch the pivotal show and report back. Peaceful but not. I set off as G returned from her film but was clearly not there, and shivered and struggled home with the wind and rain and a bit of a cold. Medicinal whisky was deployed.