In Which it is Cold

Yesterday was very cold. Unlike a lot of South East England, we had no snow, but it was cold enough, and my day busy enough that by the time I got home, I was not in any mood to go out again. Which was a shame, as it was our office Christmas party so I was due to go out almost immediately.

I had my normal panic about what to wear - it was far to cold for me to be willing to don tights and a dress - but once I arrived at the pub and had a pint of christmas ale in my hand, I did start to feel a little less stabby, although I was more than ready to leave when our taxi arrived at 11.

This morning started badly when, just after getting out of bed, I tripped over Tybalt and into the blanket box, bashing my shin with what felt like all the force in the world. It was (and still is) very hurty. And an hour later I managed to make a hole in the tip of my finger, on the handle to the window (Tybalt was involved in this one, too, as I was opening the window to let him out) I do feel that this required more skill than injuring my shin, as so far as I can see the window handle doesn't have any sharp or pointy bits on it, so I have no clue how I manged to damage myself on it.

I am naturally cack-handed and clumsy (more so at some times of the month than others) but this is worse than usual even for me. Hopefully three in row means I get to not damage myself anymore for a bit, now.

This afternoon we did have snow - not a lot, not enough gto settle, but some very large snowflakes, big and dry enough to see each individual 6 pointed star, which hardly ever seems to happen.

And in a little while, my firneds J&J will arrive for the night, and there will be much talking, and eating and drinking. (although with my track record, I'm not sure I should be allowed near sharp knives or open flames just now....