The day is strange, the clock showed the wrong time to start with, and there were strange telephone calls asking for peronal experiences of that recent surgery: Well, happy Christmas to you to, this is not a matter of advice to be given just out of hand. Talk about the difficulty of instructing surgeons faced with a problem whilst anaesthetized. Ridiculous, the whole conversation is not worth thinking about.
Help the son to repair the wheel of his moped, because it is easier with four hands than two.
That is all, then visit the mosaic maker, she is friendly and hands over a copy of the catalogue for which we had made a picture. It is good that it has gone down well after more than three quarters of this year.
And after two glasses of mulled wine, return home and lie down for an hour, she was an exhausting person to talk to.
And then settle back into the personal problems, and the difficulties of understanding color management when something goes wrong. It all seems straight forward from the outside, and then it isn't any more.
The evening is spent trying to make the small Mac computer work, but it is steadfast in its refusal to download and then to install the latest version of its software.
Sad.
No pub today, just early to bed.
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