one of those november days

In much of Britain November is one of the wettest and murkiest months of the year. Indeed, this has been the case for several days now. The forecast promised intermittent breaks in the weather, but when I left the surgery at lunchtime it was drizzling steadily, thereby putting paid to my proposed hill-walk, in preparation for which, expecting damp conditions, I had packed my walking boots in the car. I shall have to try again tomorrow. I need to do 2 walks each week along with 2 10 minute sessions with my hand weights to ease my conscience about getting enough exercise.

So I went home, did the weights, followed that after half an hour's recovery time with a ball spinning session, before going online to select an appraiser for my annual appraisal which must be completed by the end of December. Only then did I permit myself the luxury of settling down with my book and my bottle of whiskey for an hour or 2.

I phoned the care company that has taken on my mum this morning, only to find she has accepted only the most minimal package, insisting she can manage (almost) completely by herself. They seemed pretty sanguine, however; they must be used to their clients demonstrating this kind of self deception. They know as well as I do, that soon this package will have to be increased, especially if, as I fear, the DVLA expresses their misgivings about her continuing to drive. This will be the critical point: when she sees her car being taken away it will inevitably (as it would with any of us) bring about a profound crisis of confidence. It could even kill her...