Cracked

I've had a pretty productive day, all things considered. This morning our Christmas supermarket delivery arrived, with only a couple of very minor items missing, and we managed to find fridge space for it all. Then we spent some time on a decluttering project we started at the weekend: going through a bookcase full of old games and pastimes, and sorting the contents into things we want to keep, items we need to offer to L and H in case either of them might want them, and stuff for either donating to charity, recycling, or throwing out completely.

After a while our urge to get this project finished was overwhelmed by our mounting boredom, so I moved on to a different kind of old clutter, and processed a folder of photos I took back in March. Reducing 79 files to just half a dozen keepers (plus around 30 record shots, which I reported before deleting them) felt like a small photographic detox. It also reduced this year's unprocessed photos to the contents of just four daily folders, which I'm hopeful of dealing with before the start of 2021.

Flushed with success and self-congratulation (or possibly dust from the bookcase), I went looking for a subject for today's post, noticed the bowl of nuts on the kitchen table, and managed to track down the nutcracker. Having taken my photos I ate the nuts (which I've come to realise is one advantage of photographing food rather than insects), and then, because I was in food mode by now, I made another batch of my immunity booster. This is a slightly variable concoction, because I add the ingredients by eye rather than by weight, and today I think I must have been heavy-handed with the ginger and black pepper: the test spoonful I ate after blitzing everything together nearly blew the back of my head off.

Finally, a rapid double circuit of the village in light drizzle upped my step count and pulse rate, and left me feeling that I might reasonably claim to be deserving of an evening slumped in front of the television with R.