We are just back from a brisk walk by the sea. Mud and slimy leaves didn’t help and a low winter sun nearly blinded me, but we felt all the better for a quick stretch of the legs and good yoga breathing.

Christmas and New Year celebrations already feel a long way off, and winter coughs and colds did not help in the general cheer. Gerry’s house was like a glimpse into Emergency Ward 10 with bronchitis and thermometers and Prosecco and delicious strawberry pavlovas and Dillon and Darcey tearing around with trucks and plastic horses.

It actually was a lot of fun, and Hogmanay night was again a kaleidoscope of images. We went to a fabulous party, met loads of people, danced and mingled, then John found his alter ego, when the wigs were brought out, and he spent the rest of the time in a Rod Stewart wig, revelling the night away with fellow band players and the odd ‘groupie’ to keep his ego pepped up.

Plans were made, resolutions made, house, cooker and windows cleaned all in readiness for the new decade. Gerry and Darcey celebrated birthdays, so we enjoyed further celebrations.

Families were well, Natasha and Leo in Wales, Gerry and Cathal across the Forth and Nick on a fabulous holiday in Thailand.

My mum enjoyed a sherry and we were hooked on a brilliant series called ‘History of Country Music’. We watched the Carter Family, Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, Patsy Cline and Emmylou and Tammy Wynette. And then I was lost in an hour of Kris Kristofferson. Oh it was just heaven on a sofa! I would go off to bed humming ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky’ and ‘The Great Speckled Bird’ and not forgetting Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys singing the ‘New San Antonia Rose’.

Then last Wednesday I woke up to this.

Nick had arrived back in Sydney, left his key in his apartment, so climbed up to try and get it, and fell. Broke both heel bones. He had to crawl along the pavement to get a taxi to take him to the hospital, where they X-rayed and plastered him to the knees. He has been kept in until further notice, but he will have to come home to recuperate, as there is no one to take care of him out there. He cannot put weight on either leg. It is a disaster. He was due to start on a new rope career in two weeks. He won’t be allowed to fly just yet, so we shall just wait and see.

So much for plans, predictions and crystal balls.

On the positive side, all the bronchitis and coughs and sneezes have gone, I am making mushroom soufflé for dinner and I have to wade through a pile of French literature for my new ten week course at the university. So far I have read, ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’ by Victor Hugo (so so sad), Prosper Merimee’s ‘Colomba’ (the same author who wrote Carmen, of the Toreodor fame) and I am about to launch into Nana by Emil Zola. Then there is ‘Bel-ami’ by Maupassant and finally a racy little number called ‘Diary of a Chambermaid’ by Mirabeau. I am looking forward to that, a little different from Shakespeare and Marlow and John Donne n’est pas!

So, a happy new year to all. New adventures await, but will write soon with all of that!

Adieu.