So long January

So, farewell January. Lorraine and I up early. Bleak mood this morning, back now seized up as I haven't been moving enough. Getting dressed difficult. Then I peed over my jeans in a freak micturition incident, and had to get dressed again. A new fridge freezer and dishwasher were about to be delivered, and the old ones taken away.  

Cue sweaty grappling with white goods and wooden doors and kneeling on the floor twisting things at ankle level with a mulgrip. I also broke a screwdriver. 

Poor Lorraine clearly unwell. A Covid test: positive. Too late to cancel the delivery, Lorraine stayed in the sitting room, and I aired the kitchen a bit, before two blokes arrived carried the goods in an out, one taciturn, the other with the client facing skills calling me 'boss'. 

Lorraine spoke to Maureen during the day. Pat is 'Covis' positive too and Maureen unwell. Lorraine was going to go with Maureen to her rehabilitation meeting this week, but they have had to cancel this. I am worried about Mum but she and Mas seem fine -- and had been out to the Waggon and Horses with their friends Monica and Oktay.  

Now wondering if my mystery lurgy is actually Covid, despite yesterday's single line. Lorraine used the last test this morning. But it would be better if we both had Covid because otherwise I might give Lorraine my bagpipe lung lurgy and she might give me covid. 

Lorraine slept for a few hours, but seemed distinctly brighter this evening. I was also feeling noticeably less poor this evening too.  The idea of having to do some freelance later this week -- given that it's with Keith and there will be no travelling no longer seemed an impossible ask. Bloody timing.

Spoke to Anton, who was working in London on one of those Exhibition conference things he loves so deeply-- this the one a rescheduled event caused by the Queen dying. Missed having a beer with him over the last few weeks. 

More fish pie tonight, as Lorraine had cunningly made double yesterday. Wonderful.

I am hard pressed to think of a wonderful January, but this wasn't one of them. Brian texted me (as I had to decline an invitation for a beer tomorrow) to say that Spring is coming. Amen to that. 

In the words of another Brian, Brian Bilston.