2009 — 20 January: Tuesday

Tonight's picture of Christa:

I'm guessing late 1980s, possibly 1989. I recall Big Bro was around, so he may be able to shed some light.

I'm going to pop the last set of meds for today and then try to get some sleep. I've spent the majority of the day chiselling away at parts of my web site in a way that will really only benefit me, and not be visible to others. I must be mad! G'night, at 00:22, or so.

Ouch!

While I'm sure the antibiotics will do the job, progress is (as ever) slower than I could wish. Anyway, it's 11:11. The first meds have been onboard for several hours; the next crockpot is stuffed and simmering gently; various emails have been answered; the black bin has been emptied and brought back in. It's pretty cold outside, and there's the usual news of carnage and confusion on the UK's roads. Must be time for breakfast, surely?

I have to wonder, why is the 44th President going to swear on the same bible Lincoln used? The one time I did jury service, at least I refused the offer of a book of fairy tales. That made me a marked man in the eyes of the prosecuting thingy (well, the beard didn't help, either). I actually have a quote from Mr Obama here. Sounds like a sensible chap, though I don't envy him the new gig.

Most unlike me

I closed my eyes "for five minutes" (as Christa used to say) and, next thing I know, it's 13:21 and time for the next meds ahead of the next meal. This being infected lark, and absorbing mega doses of microbacterial-Ws-of-MD, apparently takes it out of a chap!

Having nipped out for a quick cuppa and burst of cold, fresh air (thank you, Peter) I've heard bits of the inauguration and am now chomping on a tasty pink grapefruit, plus cuppa, while waiting for the crockpot to attain perfection any minute now — well, in another hour or so. It's 17:32 and I seem to have an appetite.