Preparation

Well, not preparation exactly. More like thinking about preparation. For a start, I won't be reaming the oranges by hand this year - I've done it many times before, but now I'm old I've decided to give my hands a break. So I've blown the Offspring's inheritance on a citrus press attachment for the Magimix, and I'm currently waiting for it to be delivered. Is it sad that I'm just a little bit excited about that? Yes, I think it probably is. 

 On the subject of my near-fossilised state, I had a very good session at lunchtime with our wonderful osteopath, whom I've known for thirty years, and whose retirement I dread because I can't imagine letting anyone else touch my spine. However, his halo slipped just a little bit when he told me that he wasn't planning on doing any heavy adjustments. "You are sixty six, after all." he said. "We have to be a bit more careful now than when you were thirty six." Hmmm. Anyway, despite having to treat me like a porcelain vase, he managed free up the dorsal spine, which is the bit that's been giving me the most trouble, and then further redeemed himself by going wild over some of my Short-eared Owl photos. "Did you take these?" he said. "Really? Wow!!" OK Peter - you're forgiven.