Testing times

Happy St Andrew's Day ...

It's become quite a habit, this addition to the Tuesday routine. Months before Nicola asked us all to test ourselves before socialising with people outside our household, we'd decided that this was something positive we could do to enable our choir to meet and rehearse again, and we've been doing it ever since. The first message pings in when I'm still drinking my morning tea (that's a euphemism for "I'm still lazing in bed like a retired person") as one of our singers who is still at work sends her photo of a negative test in to the chat group; the rest follow throughout the day including the last two whom I've maybe reminded that we're still waiting. The psychological effect of doing this is amazingly potent.

Have you noticed, anyone, that there has been no publicity given to the fact that people have been meeting to sing? There was certainly no trumpeting of the relaxation of the ban back in the summer, despite all the noise about the terrifying lethality of singing at the beginning of the pandemic. Interesting.

Other than going out to choir this evening (gosh, we were singing well) I've not been over the door all day. The weather was unremittingly grey, and seemed to go seamlessly from drizzle to downpour without much change in the light. Blipper Bluebell asked me yesterday how much daylight we got at this time of year - I reckon the round figure of 6 hours of sun is about right, but on days when there is absolutely no sign of sun it seems almost irrelevant.

My hall looks like a post office parcels sorting department with incoming orders and early Christmas post. If I don't get out tomorrow one of two things may happen: I shall go crazy and you might get a photo of boxes.

Something to look forward to ...