Round and round ...
First of all, let me apologise for the photo. This is, after all, a photo journal, and this sad excuse for one is the only photo I took all day, through the window, first thing in the morning, because I felt it looked so dreary after yesterday's attractive sunrise. Today was so gloomy that when I first sat up to drink my tea it was actually dark, and had only lightened to the above by the time I tore myself away from bed and Instagram (Alastair Campbell was in fine form this morning; it's amazing how much lighter it is on Hampstead Heath when it's still pretty dark here at this time of year.) The tiny lit up boat in the photo is our small town - railhead ferry, the one that makes me sick whenever there's a sea running.
There was a distinctly Groundhog Day feeling about the rest of today. We were back to virtual church, on Zoom - despite providing the recordings to lead all the singing, we'd both forgotten just how much singing actually happens in these services! Our retired canon delivered a great sermon on the baptism of Christ, though I must say I find the church year an awful rush at this time of year - the adult baptism being celebrated less than a week after the coming of the Magi is always a jolt.
After the service, another Groundhog thing was our shared online coffee with our two friends (as opposed to me and Bestie having a FaceTime on our own). We ate another large chunk of birthday cake and wished we could share it physically. Later, we dragged ourselves out for a duty walk round the West Bay and home via the church - the route we followed so often during the first lockdown.
I missed hearing the actual programme, but apparently Keir Starmer was daft enough to say on TV this morning that the Scottish NHS is on its knees and that because of this fact it was a bad time to think about another Independence referendum. Silly man - overspill patients from Carlisle are currently being relocated to Scottish hospitals, and he's just shot himself and his Scottish party in the foot even more destructively with this London-centric ignorance.
And that, let's face it, is another Groundhog sort of occurrence.