I like to start the blog with a few pithy phrases that give an air of detached insightfulness. Unfortunately I can't think of any.
I decided to give Mr Strawbridge's antics a miss tonight. As a friend commented, he'd watched it last week but with gritted teeth. I knew exactly what he meant and I have no wish to return prematurely to my dentist.
December eh? Steph has stuck a calender under my nose and pointed out how few working days there are before Christmas, and how much Andrew and I keep trying to squeeze in.
They said last week's was a little disappointing - wha'd'they want? Blud?
I looked over at the Darley hillside while shunting this afternoon. The trees were an attractive mix of greens and browns in the wintery sunshine, but the wind was chilling. Back at the Briddon Country Pile the central heating pump has died and the plumbers reckon a replacement is 2-3 days. Brrr.
It's actually Monday as I get this loaded, sorry if you've been waiting up Sunday night – hope it's worth the delay!
The 'hit count' on this blog has been well up for the last couple of weeks – I gather it has had plugs on NatPres and something called Facebook (I'm not one for social media, but then a decade ago I'd never have thought of doing a weekly blog) so firstly a welcome to all new readers and I hope you'll hang around. It can get lonely here on my own.
It has been busy this week for most of the wrong reasons.
After all those pretty pictures last week, a bit of a dearth this week. Never mind, I'll try to make up for it with some pithy prose.