January Blues

 

First of all - a Victoria Sponge update. A recent reader will remember that Bert was making one for the visit of Martha, Evie, their folks and the Antipodean branch of the Haribo family. I illustrated that post with a picture of a Mary Berry Vic Sponge and some of the FB folk thought that was the one that Bert created. Afraid not. We did not take a picture of Bert's VS nor did we tell our guests (except Paul) that Woody had munched a chunk out of the lower layer. It must have been all the eggs and butter that attracted him. Cats do love a bit of dairy. 

As far as I know, none of our guests got cat flu. I was careful only to serve them the parts of the cake that remained uncattered.  The cake was actually delicious, much nicer than the carrot cake I made. Onwards and upwards with the Victoria Sponge, Bertram.

It was after that enjoyable evening that my mood declined. Nothing to look forward to except snow and icy weather and taking down the Christmas Tree that I had grown to love. That tree cheered me every day it was up. When I took it down on Sunday I had another mood slip.

I let the news get to me. Certain names were triggering. I won't mention them. President Carter's funeral was the only news event I tuned into and then only slightly. One glimpse of an over-made-up face and I recoiled from it.

But, enough of that. I am going to look for joy even it only lasts a second. I usually don't like snow but this time it was beautiful. Not too much of it, not that deep but certainly crisp and even. I'll draw a veil over the slippy, slidy, very scary journey I made on Tuesday when I foolishly took the back road from Galgorm to home. At one point I thought I would have to phone Bert to bring the tractor to pull me out of a hedge.

Since then I've been confined to barracks. Hannah doesn't even like me leaving the house in case I fall and break something. I might go out tomorrow.

I had a lovely chat with London Sister earlier. That's why I'm going to search out my joy. She told me so. That picture of the frosted witch hazel is joyful even if, thanks to my dodgy sinuses, I can never smell it.  I'm told it's divine.

Also, the cats good Pippin and bad Woody curled up together. It's a rare event these days. Pippin doesn't like Woody that much.

I wish Rusty had someone to cosy up to this cold night. This might be when he really feels the loss of Lily. He has lots of fresh straw, a sleeping bag tied around him and an old duvet. I hope it's enough.