Breakfast in a time of cholera

I'm not sure if it was a good plan to be born in February. Over the years, we've had snowstorms, lockdowns, and the usual seasonal shenanigans, but this year we had the Perfect Storm of my turning 60, Steve being ill with a mystery condition, my colleagues having either the 4-week cold or CoVid, and my friends needing to get to Bristol airport but the trains being on strike ! Oh, and the weather wasn't looking great for a trip to Clevedon Pier after the airport, and the pier is closed on a Monday, anyway!

The best parts of the day were:

Being given lots of presents (mostly Wentworth Wooden jigsaws, at my request) in beautiful wrapping paper 

Going out for breakfast with K and M at Curio Loungue. I had a halloumi burger

My cake actually looking and tasting ok (I made it from an ancient packet mix that said Use before the end of CoVid 19, and  approximately fourteen pounds of butter)

Coming back from the airport and finding the coal bunker filled with  even more presents, including chocolates, hyacinths, roses and a book token from all my colleagues

Long conversation with,.and beautiful card from, my old school friend E. She said she'd been looking at the Distant Journeys website. 'That's funny', I said. 'So have I! Best do something dynamic, before the mere act of going upstairs becomes a Distant Journey'

Low points:

Finding I'd left the freezer door open overnight and several items had thawed (this is not supposed to happen with the new freezer)

Wondering if CleanSteve might have CoVid too (he's tested negative )

Waiting for a bus that never came, with K on crutches and a cold wind blowing 

My mother having dementia and therefore being unable to remember that I'm her daughter, let alone that I'm 60 (she was always a legend for having drawers full of greetings cards but rarely remembering to send them on time. She was, however, a single mother of six, so that is totally understandable, in hindsight 


Here endeth the day. Next year I'll be 61. If you're a woman and you get to 63 unscathed, you'll be fine, apparently. With men, it's 65. Poor, poor King Charles. He waited until he was just short of 74 to become King, and then got struck down with a prostate problem and, now, cancer of a non-prostate type. I know he'll get the best treatment, unlike many others, but he's been waiting for so long....