I prise myself out of unconsciousness and go downstairs, where I get to watch one of my nephews in an endless quest to run around and do something or other in the guise of Harry Potter (on the Playstation) and drink tea, and carry on reading Night Watch, this year’s Terry Pratchett book. At a suitable time, Sara takes me to the station (or at least a station – Andover, which is some way away, but convenient for me, since it gets into Waterloo. Nice of her, I think).
When we get there, she buys me a tea from the machine in the shop and we wait on the platform for the train to arrive, it does (and on time, too. What went wrong?) and I’m off.
In a siding is a train marked Railtrack Snowblower which sounds like a character out of Lord of the Rings.
I sit on the train, reading and listening to MP3s on the iBook.
Anyway: Waterloo, home, lack of flooding, which is a relief. Still bits of plaster all over the place and I don’t feel up to… much, really. I glower at it, but it doesn’t help, and to be honest it wouldn’t have worked for Mary Poppins, either.
I go online and upload the diary for the last week or so, then go out and pay the telephone bill (which I failed to do on Tuesday, as water was pouring down). While I’m out, I go to Rymans and buy a year planner for next year (so next year will hopefully be a bit organised) and a filing system thing to assist with the tax. Assuming that anything can.
I dedicate the rest of the day to blankness and channel-switching. And trying out some of the food Mother gave me for Christmas.