Beloved went to chiropractor and came back straight but groaning -was told this would continue for two more days: at least. Granny retired to bed with cold so called but more like flu - the kind makes you feel that if you were told the only alternative was death you'd cry bring it on: NOW. The wind meanwhile howled in sympathy - this she remembers from her academic literary days is called the pathetic fallacy - but it was worse than pathetic, let alone fallacious, it blew down a balcony door and had the nextdoor neighbour complaining it had frightened her child. (Granny has been trying to get said door fixed for months, to no avail: now it's altogether unfixable.) More groans. She is feeling well enough now to write this but that's about it. Beloved, bad back and all, is sitting across from her making heavy weather of sending funeral flowers for deceased friend in Edinburgh via the internet (What do they mean by billing address? he inquires.) Granny and Beloved should be in Edinburgh this minute for said funeral but between her lurgy and his back.... not possible. Another sudden death. The cull of winter among those of a certain age.
So no cheer here. Sorry folks. Roll on Christmas. Or maybe just roll over, Christmas. GO AWAY.