With cat-like tread …

You forget, after your children have left home, how different it feels having to think of other people when you’re not well. As far as I know, this is just - just! - the Cold from Hell that seems to be doing the rounds; I felt so grim first thing that I did another LFD test before breakfast, but the PCR test that I ordered yesterday never materialised, texts, mails and tracking numbers from Royal Mail notwithstanding. Royal Mail is actually only as good as its delivery system, and I fear my current postman isn’t the sharpest knife in the box.

The girls slept in till midday, so I returned to my own bed and tried to take a proper sickie. I feel bad for them - not much fun with the mist and rain and decrepit oldies falling short of their own standards. They’ve been great, actually, whether going for solitary walks in the rain or disappearing for ages into a bedroom. Or, as today’s blip testifies, submitting to my importunate demand to give me a photo for today - Catriona in typical pose, wearing the cat’s foot slipper socks her mad grandma gave her two years ago.

I was inordinately pleased …