Routine

When I was working, I could tell you what I'd be doing at a given time on any day of the week/ Life was structured just as it is for anyone in an institution, run by bells and a set timetable, round which I fitted taking a child to piano lessons (Monday) or doing the weekly shop (Thursday after school) or eating a takeaway from the chippy (Thursday after shopping). Retirement drove the proverbial coach and horses through that, but Tuesdays tend to mark a reprise of that familiar predictability. 

So today saw the rain return ( it was woefully dismal), a painting class in the morning, a main meal at an odd time (should I call it dunch? or linner?) and choir practice, after which I was ready to fall over with exhaustion despite having had practically no exercise all day. 

Mind you, I couldn't have predicted that the cleverest of the three candidates for yesterday's election of SNP leader would be offered a substantial demotion to stay in government - which she would then refuse. I don't blame her, but I'm sorry. More than sorry, in fact.And I couldn't have predicted that Scotland would beat Spain 2-0 this evening, nor that I'd stumble upon what turned out to be a very illuminating documentary on Channel 4 - Bear Grylls travelling to Ukraine to meet Zelensky and making a really good job of it. 

Blipping the only bright image in my day today: lunch/dinner/whatever you call it. Yum.