Busy busy ...

It wasn't supposed to be quite so full, this day, when it started out. To be sure, there was the early shopping run - aided today by Himself, who saved me from traversing the icy wastes of Morrison's car park by driving me down and dropping me off at the front door, returning an hour later to pick me up. It was while we were carefully carting the heavy bags down through the snowy garden that I took my blip - our back lane looking picturesque in the thin snow as the sun came up. I like the shape of the trees that were so hacked down in the past - they look like something in a painting. 

I'd no sooner finished my breakfast and cleared the table when David (Rector of Holy T) arrived to discuss the services and thus the music required for Lent and - horrifyingly close-seeming - Easter. He was remarking that after Easter it would be four years since he arrived here; it's horrific how much living was taken from us by Covid. However, this was a cheery meeting, fuelled by coffee and the warmth of the room, and nothing like the sombre session that might be suggested by its genesis. 

Because it had been a lovely morning we felt driven to go for a walk in the afternoon, though in fact there were a few wet showers happening by then. We went to Benmore Gardens for the sake of the climb up the hill - good for getting the heart-rate up in a relatively short time. Apart from a couple of gardeners waving from a wee tractor thing we saw no-one; even the birds were silent. 

When we got in I spent some time trying to reconnect my computer to my earphones (unsuccessfully) while Himself made a batch of chicken bhuna to put in the freezer. I also did some Italian, but I'm falling behind in the tournament and was too frazzled by this hour to do any more. Part of my frazzlehood stems from the quantity of marmalade oranges we ordered with our fish delivery (don't ask) - I can't really think in kilos. I shall have to make the marmalade in batches, I think...

But that, chums, is for another day.