Breakfasts Three-Hundred-and-Nineteen-to-Twenty-Six

No. 319: Two apples (nothing else to eat that morning); No. 320: Porridge;
No 321: Porridge again (same photo as I forgot to take one); No.322: Crunchy Nut Cornflakes.

No. 323: Crunchy Nut Cornflakes; No. 324: Crunchy Nut Cornflakes;
No. 325: Crunchy Nut Cornflakes; No. 326: Scrambled eggs on toast.

Oof, it's been a while. A week in fact, no, more -- eight days. Eight days in which I have become a self-employed person, attended a birthday party, virtually melted my skin off with mould-busting bleach stuff, and knackerd my hip shifting boxes. (My poor hip. I'd feel old, but actually this has been a problem since I was a teenager -- heavy lifting makes for two-to-four days of lameness.)

I am now ensconced at home, where the ambient temperature in my bedroom last night was a balmy 7.5ºC. I think I need thermal pyjamas. And an additional hot water bottle. Today I have been nearly drowned twice.  Once walking to and from the coral beach (horizontal driving rain, you are not my friend). And once streaking from the car to the co-op, a distance of no more than 30 metres: enough to entirely saturate my clothes, and fill my right ear with water. I'm toasting myself by the fire now though, so all is well.