Dear diary.
It's now the 65th day of January.
I'm going deaf in my left eye
and have just finished eating the last page of the Christmas Radio Times - I ran out of mince pies 3 days ago.
I saw the last packet of 'Christmas Brie' walk out of the backdoor yesterday,
saying it had had enough - so food supplies are running low!
I am managing to stay warm by
burning the endless supply of holiday brochures coming through my letterbox - most of them are for summer 2028 anyway!
I am now wishing I'd bought more Easter eggs before Christmas.
The five trays of clotted cream I bought have been useful.
I've been using it to block up the draughts coming in through the gaps around the windows.
Moral is low.
I've now watched the 'Morecambe and Wise Christmas Special' for the 32nd time
and am keeping myself cheery by thinking of what I will do when my next pay cheque arrives - I believe it's due in around 8 months time!
I managed to pick up a weak and crackly signal from the BBC on my wireless set.
The announcer said something about the spring being just around the corner - I think that means three years away!
I am hoping the world is still out there.
I haven't opened the curtains for at least six months!
At least all this rain is filling up the reservoirs...
but wait,
what was that?
Was that the gales rattling the letterbox flap again,
blowing yet more snow against my windows,
piling it up against my front door,
or was it the doorbell?
...ah yes,
it was the doorbell,
it was the brave 'postie' in his shorts and T-shirt,
with my electricity bill,
my water bill,
and my council tax demand...
...oh and some more 2028 holiday brochures!
I think they'll all burn well!
