Hibernation

It's late, and my backup programme is about to kick in, rendering every move on the computer glacially slow as I dash down a few words in the attempt to beat the stroke of midnight. Think the Cinderella of blipping ... It's also blowing up a hoolie outside - nothing like what they've been warning of for Wales, but the front door fought with me when I went to lock it, with my customary peer out to see what's doing, and the rain is washing down the front windows as if the window cleaner with his new-fangled hose wash were beavering away down in the garden. 

It all began so beautifully too - that collage, based on the matching colours of sky and leaves, shows the sky golden at first light, and then that wonderful shepherds' warning pink half an hour later. It stayed dry and sort of ordinary for my after-breakfast visit to the surgery about my persistent cough (gosh - they fair put the wind up you with the implications of the questions they ask) whence I emerged triumphant with a prescription for the codeine cough linctus one can no longer buy over the counter because it was being abused. I also marched up to the Health Store for a lump of their lovely pale, gritty marzipan and a box of unrefined icing sugar, meaning that I may get the cake iced some day. That, by the way, was when I saw these lovely red leaves, hanging on in the rough ground above the car park in the town centre as I tried to keep the same pace up the hill as on the flat.

After that, however, I didn't go out again. The weather deteriorated and so did my mood, and I found myself sitting in front of the fire like an old lady, falling asleep over the paper. The local paper carried a half-page spread featuring photos of our church service last Sunday, which was nice, especially as it carried advance notice of our lessons and carols service. I read, I played on my phone, I rang Di for a moan - and then uploaded a whole bunch of photos from the bishop's consecration in Oban and installation in Cumbrae onto Flickr, for which I pay a subscription but keep forgetting to upload to. Before Facebook and Instagram I uploaded everything - it's much higher resolution if they need to be rescued.

One positive thing I found on Twitter was a response from Morrison's to my rant yesterday. They asked me to DM them so that they could work on it as a team. Reader, I did just that - and included my damning photo so that they could see that it wasn't mere hyperbole. 

I managed to stay awake for the new Dalgliesh series - I'm not sure that the one that ended tonight was quite the same as the book Death in Holy Orders, which I shall now have to re-read, but I like the actor they have as Adam Dalgliesh; he suits my idea of the character. 

And now I've gone past midnight and will have to watch this upload like paint drying. Batten down well, mes enfants ...