Omicron continuing to spread. Calling around we find that half a dozen folks we know in London and Scotland have got it. The symptoms appear to have been tiredness for a day or two followed by a manageable cold for another four or five days. Everyone has the same question - 'How would we have managed without supermarket home deliveries ? ' In a sign of the times e-mails are exchanged with details of what vitamins did, and did not, work to alleviate the symptoms.
Sophie and her companion have a tour of the village, climb up the hill and then detour to the waterfall for a lengthy drink and a chance to practise some inept minnow fishing. Then it's home for a napette, in the sun, in front of The Rickety Old Farmhouse. Being a Calvinist Angus knows that this balmy New Years weather is too good to be true. Punishment will surely arrive with a snow bearing isobar that links us directly to the North Pole.
Last night we had dinner in the Hammer House of Horrors dining room. The end of this Christmas seasons entertaining. Naked flames and fraying and inflammable wall coverings always make meal times in the old dining room 'interesting'. Tonight we can get back to eating in the non-combustible safety of the downstairs kitchen. Sophie loves having dinner in the dining room. 'The Font' thinks this is because she finds it warm and comforting. Angus thinks it more likely that two centuries of farmhouse dog odour have etched themselves into the floor tiles. It is just as likely she can hear the mice scurrying away in the attic.