The darling buds of December

I don't know about you lovely blippers, but I'm slightly struggling to keep the Christmas spirit alive.  The below is not meant as a rant or a moan, but... well, perhaps it's for all those jolly academics a hundred years hence who research 'ordinary peoples' second pandemic Christmas journals at their desks in the British Library.

So future guys, this is it (remembering, firstly, that we're not 'ordinary', no-one is ordinary, certainly not blippers).  We're still allowed to meet up on 25th with our friends and families.  For now.  But if you don't have covid you have a 'super cold' or gastro-entertis - and that's before you've made yourself sick on supermarket fake mulled wine and greasy take-out pizzas!  And if you've managed by some miracle to escape this further treat you get so irritable with everyone who hasn't that 'socialising' becomes a very tricky prospect.

That's why, today, from me, on this shortest day of the year, you have a whisper of very early spring.  I didn't go for a proper walk, just mooched round the neighbourhood.  This twig with its wonderful buds was spied on a large maple tree just down the hill, where local kids have set themselves up a swing.  I loved it, it felt genuinely optimistic.

And yes, as you see, we had sun.  That was good.  Also good is that K is beginning rather slowly to recover from a really horrible episode that nearly landed her in hospital.  Meanwhile, Sandy couldn't come to clean today because now she's unwell (might come tomorrow), little Sis cancelled our pre-Christmas meet, Guys have changed my Hospital appointment tomorrow (?) to a phone one in January and I forgot big Sis was coming to pick up little Sis's present - oh you stupid woman - and I'm feeling rather beset.  Hence my need for a fragment of beautiful spring.

I do hope your day has been/is being rather kinder to you.  Take care, dear blippies (as Stella would say)  xx