Bottom of the curve

New Year’s day brunch. Marcus Wareing rosti potato. Slow. Relaxing. Cup of tea. News is all Brexshit. Time will tell. There is comfort knowing I’m an Irish citizen. The UK will probably take a generation to recover from the divisions created by Bojo and his troop. I’ve moved on and am letting them get on with it but have a sharpened knife at the ready.

Sister Ann and her husband Toby who are both GPs are spending the weekend preparing to give covid inoculations at their practice. The elixirs arrive on Tuesday and Wednesday. Both varieties. Will keep them busy. Their kids are manning the phones calling the punters to arms. Exciting.

Very pleasant meal last night, the three of us. I made it as far as 10pm then hit the hay. Lightweight. 

Today we are going for a walk to Whisby Nature reserve. Blow out the cobwebs. Fair bet there will be hundreds of others doing the same thing! See how it goes. One way system? Doubt it!

It is still outside. Dull. Cold. Bottom of the curve.

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