The kitchen in the dining room

I was looking back at Blips from the last couple of weeks in March and I kind of wish I hadn't. If I'd known then what I know now, I doubt I'd have believed it. 

Seven months on and it feels like we're not really getting anywhere. The only constant is the ineptitude, callousness and a general couldn't give a fuck about the north coming from the clowns. 

There is perhaps no greater irony than the MBE given to Marcus Rashford for persuading the Government to do what they should not have needed persuading to do and are now refusing to do.

And then my Dad died in June and we had a massive flood from a burst radiator in the spare room a few weeks ago. And some other things I can't really remember just now.

It was a relief to be able to get up to Scotland a couple of times in July / August, which helped my mood, but that's effectively off limits for the time being.

Still, I learned how to poach an egg, so not all bad.

This weekend was spent clearing out the kitchen cupboards before they all get ripped out so the drying process can continue for fuck only knows how much longer.

And then the clocks went back last night. That seems like the ultimate insult to cap off a lost summer.

I know it's not just me - we're all fighting fires, some hotter than others, so forgive the self indulgence. It just makes me feel a tiny little bit better to have a moan at times.