I should be fishing. . . .

It is a beautiful crisp bit dry and sunny winters day. The song thrush has been singing all night. the dawn chorus was exciting ansd the canal, although still discoloured is reflecting the blue sky without a ripple.

I should be fishing.

But. . . . we have been struck by the fluey cold that is going around and I am locked in by a casualty. Tigger took to his bed yeaterday and has only just emerged to watch a video, clutching a tissue. He is off his food as well which is a very sure sign that all is not well. So, with the Best Mate at a meeting all day, I have been locked in as nursey Percy trying to get fluid and paracetamol in at appropriate times.

I hope the weather holds out. Tomorrow the school panto has been cancelled because staff are dropping like flies from similar afflictions and my services as Widow Twanky will not be required until the restart in January.

Hence: tomorrow is free! I wonder what it will hold for me? Maybe I will get a plastic maggot wet. Who knows?