Winter is i-cumen in. And so is the Frost man

There may be some dispute amongst various bodies whether winter officially starts on December 1^st (meteorologically) or December 21^st (astronomically). But there was no doubt this morning what the weather thinks. It was nearly -4 when we left the house just after 7 this morning. The grass, rooves and fence tops were covered in frost. The Builder had to scrape the car down. I have dug out my winter coats (originally typed coast; I want a winter coast!!) and my winter scarves. Cold, it was. Cold! Still, I suppose at least there was no high wind or pouring rain. I believe that is due tonight!

So at least it is unlikely to be absolutely freezing in the morning.

In the meantime, I have been poorly sick. I had to have Thursday and Friday of last week off work. What? No, no. Of course it wasn’t swine flu. It wasn’t any type of flu. I don’t know what it was. My lower back had been playing up for some time before, but that is not all that unusual. My shoulder had been quite painful for several days, which is also not absolutely unknown. But on Thursday morning when I got up my arms and legs ached too, my head ached (though I didn’t have a headache, if you see what I mean) and my brain felt as though it had been battered by a sopping wet sandbag. Not that I ever have been battered by a sandbag, but you can imagine how that might feel. I stayed at home, put the central heating on and sat in the armchair in the lounge room next to the big radiator. Marlo thought it was wonderful!

I felt slightly better on Saturday and went out with The Builder to Chatsworth, the garden centre and the supermarket. It was good to get out, but I was mighty glad to get back to my warm armchair. Sunday was better still, though it was wet and windy so we didn’t really do anything. I don’t think we so much as left the premises. Yesterday I came back to work, but I wasn’t an entirely happy little vegemite and my back and shoulder were extremely cross about being made to do anything. Today I feel very nearly human again.

Mind you, it may have been as well that we decided not to go anywhere on Sunday. I had been soaking some clothes in napisan in a bucket. Put them in the washing machine and went out to pour the water down the gully trap, only to find it absolutely full up with manky water. I *thought* I had seen bubbles blowing around in the courtyard after I had had a back and shoulder soothing bubble bath on Friday morning. I poked about with a broom handle to see what was what. Summoned The Builder to see if he had any wise words (he certainly had words to offer, but whether they were wise is open to discussion – and I certainly wouldn’t repeat them on this here blog!!). We poked about a bit more and managed to get it to run free. But testing it with the hose suggested it was really still blocked. In the end I got in with my hands to find out what was what. And it was all filled up with grit and rubble and what looked like a decade’s accretion of remnants of bath salts and things. Not me. I’m a bubble person on the whole. But Mrs Hallam left a whole load of bath salts and mini bath bombs and things when she moved out. Eventually I threw them away. Bath salts make a bath feel gritty to my mind. Anyway. It’s clear now and water is running away as it should do.

On a much snugglier and cosier note - here are Jess's magnificent continental cushion covers:

Our bed


Guest bed