More cortisone in the wonky foot yesterday, and a boffo dinner of lamb shanks from the freezer for my bubble-mates, Edmund’s brother and sister-in-law and their lodger. Braised lamb shanks is definitely not a dish for one, so I’m glad the Bubble likes lamb and was eager to join me.

In anticipation of their visit, I vacuumed the parlour rug. And dusted.

Disposal of the beer fridge is scheduled for 14 March, so I must reorganize the contents of the chest freezer to make room for the stash of frozen soup stock. I have eaten my way down to the half-full point, so there’s room, but I have to ensure that what’s in there is accessible without a deep dive with the big mittens on.

With winter on the wane, the down quilt on the bed is abruptly too warm. Today’s fun and games will, therefore, include taking it out of the cover, airing it, and putting it away against next winter (early December will be about right). Then I have to wrestle the lighter silk-filled quilt into the cover, a task that always provides a healthy upper-body workout.

Then I should be ready for a beer and another stretch in the comfy chair under the cat.