Back to work...

...and my back is playing silly buggers. My workmates diagnose Sciatica. As someone is always suffering some ailment, I don't doubt their collective opinion and it's saved me €60 at the doctor's anyhow. I spent last evening with a heat pack strapped to my arse and walked everywhere like Elvis in his 68 comeback special, but without the leather gear. The pain is gradually easing, thank you for asking.

Good things: I forgot that my Christmas pressie from my chums was stashed under my desk and when I found it again today and looked closely, it turned out to be a box full of beer.

As I said, the pain is now gradually easing.

I shall not hazard the chilli flavoured peanuts that accompanied the beer in case the lack of bowel control that I read on the Internet can be associated with severe Sciatica should kick in.

There is only so much speed I can muster with one good leg and the other trailing a half-step behind and I should not like to shite circles around myself on the way to the loo.

Herself is making small prayers in the hallway, taking down Christmas decorations. The place is starting to look bare.

If it is fine tomorrow, I may attempt to paint the doorsteps, which need a blackening. Thus far, we have not yet found suitable tiles for the floor of the new porch. I suggested a temporary linoleum and two days of ice and snow resulted.