I've had a bit of a cold for the last few days. I don't often get ill so I make a meal of it when I do. But guess who also got ill? Yes, Husband, and, of course, he's worse than I am. So I haven't even been able to enjoy a few days of feeling sorry for myself and being looked after.
Anyway I don't have time to be ill. Although I may have Christmas fever: I went into town this afternoon just because I had to go shopping and buy stuff. It didn't matter what. Yes, I've reached that stage. Oh but I have saucepan envy. Is it natural to go into debenhams and drool over saucepans?
Daughter has some lovely pans but I keep telling myself I don't need new saucepans; the ones I have are adequate. They're just not beautiful.
I did use the being ill card as an excuse to sit down and watch Julie and Julia (I've only had it for a year). What a delightful film! And I'm currently reading The Woman Who Went to Bed for a Year by Sue Townsend. I have to say that the idea is becoming increasingly attractive.
George isn't ill but did emerge from some bushes with blood splattered over his nose. We couldn't see any obvious damage so he probably scratched it on a bramble or was bitten by an angry hedgehog trying to sleep.