Humbugs

Porridge. Yum.

I got another non-chewy humbug this evening. Bah!

Elementary!

Porridge.

I can't believe I've only just cottoned on the BBC's Sherlock -- it's good gripping stuff. One of the benefits of coming to these things late though is that I still haven't seen the first series. And I suppose there's the new Guy Ritchie one too; but I thought the last one was a little too pleased with itself. Still, needs must.

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.

Breakfast the Three-Hundred-and-Sixteenth

Cinnamony cheat's/cheats' (are the cheats many or one?) porridge.

I got a new phone about four months ago, so naturally I have only made it as far as the D's in copying over numbers.  Mostly everyone I should like to communicate with has by now sent me a message, or phoned, and I have saved their numbers.

Every so often though, I get a missed call or a message from a number I haven't got saved. This tends to be a source of excitement, as it's usually some lovely person I haven't heard from in a while. You can imagine my disappointment then when today's mystery caller (I was driving so couldn't answer) followed their unanswered call with a text asking me to "check their straighteners were off." Given I live with a chap, whose name is in the D's, this was, alas, nothing more than a wrong number.

Breakfast the Two-Hundred-and-Ninety-Ninth

Porridge with brown sugar.

I think this may be my first porridge -- which is sort of incredible given I am rather fond of it, especially when swimming in cream (or at least full fat milk as it is here).

I've been Guy Fawkes-ing tonight at Dunvegan castle -- where we saw an amazing fireworks display. It's difficult to beat pyrotechnics reflected in a castle window.