Christmas is over. The tree is gone and I started work on a new contract. I’ve only done three days, and most of it was taken up with getting set up and acquainted with the codebase, but it’s going well so far.

Having a 9 a.m. stand-up is a bit of a shock, though. I don’t think I’ve had a regular start that early since about 2003. I’ve had to rearrange my morning routine a little.

I sorted out a tiny thing that has been bugging me since we had the house renovated: the exposed screws on all the light switches and sockets. They come with covers, little plastic circles that fit flush into the fascia. I asked the electrician to fit them, or at least to keep them, but he didn’t. I finally found a supplier that sold them in bulk at a reasonable price (55p for 10) and cycled to an industrial estate in the far end of Greenwich to pick them up.

L— didn’t notice. Not even when I told her it was something about the socket right in front of her. But I do, every time I turn on the light.

There’s a statistic about the majority of car accidents happening within a few miles of home. I think the same is true of cycling. On my way home on Monday evening, in the cold and dark, a few hundred metres from our house, I cycled over a big wet dog poo. OK, it’s not an accident in the normal sense, but it caused me a great deal of psychic harm. I am grateful for mudguards that protected me from worse.

It really was the worst time: too dark to see, and below freezing. I grabbed a head torch and hosed down my bike in the garden, in the dark, in the cold. Next morning, the garden was icy and my bike brakes were frozen stiff. Not so stiff that I couldn’t stop, but stiff enough that, having stopped, it was hard to get going again. Not much fun.

I gave blood again, for the 42nd time. This time, my iron levels were very good, so it seems like my diet and/or supplements are doing the job. At this rate, I should be able to hit 50 donations before I’m 50 years old.

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