Bread and butter

Another lazy and languid Sunday. Good session of Pilates in the morning with ND, fewer technical instructions than I am used to and a slightly scatty approach which I liked, I will endeavour to get a place next Sunday which will require me to keep a regular watch on the Nuffield app and get in quick if the waiting list is opened. The only way I can get into Yoga is by setting the alarm at 6.59 and make a booking exactly on 7.00 when it opens, eight days in advance. All this is improving my press ups and I am able to do 9, on a good day. Perhaps the goal of 64 by the tenth of November is a little ambitious.
The papers full of gloom, especially the Observer – rising COVID and the future implications for hospital admission, the suffering of 17th century so called witches, and most alarmingly the outrageous behaviour of the putative UK government in respect of the agreed Brexit deal.
With some effort I returned to my acrylic exercises in the afternoon. I quite like the bread and butter one, and might improvise and execute a fried egg on toast.
In the evening lamb chops and a decent merlot helped. STVs Singapore grip not as gripping as I had hoped, and I didn’t realise until the credits that Sylvia was played by Jane Horrocks.