A cold singing ...

As I write this, I'm actually longing for bed - unusual for me, as it's not yet midnight. We're both feeling washed out, despite a feeling of achievement, and wonder if it was the extreme chill this morning that's affected us. After dire warnings from friends on Facebook of black ice all the way along the promenade, we decided the safest option was to drive to the church to make our weekly recordings for the online service, and such was our determination not to linger that we were actually really efficient, with only one verse of one hymn having to be repeated. This, I'm sure, was the effect of the cold - I suddenly felt as if my throat was closing down, and had to work hard to rescue it. The temperature out of doors and inside the church was 3ºC, and the hand that was holding the music was aching with the the cold. I don't know how Himself plays the organ at all.

I don't want to give the wrong impression here: I actually love the chance to sing and the sense of doing something that other people appreciate, and I would hate anyone to tell us to desist. But it would be good to be slightly warmer ...

We warmed up after lunch with a relatively modest walk on the coast road the south, heading up the hill rather than along the beach road because of the number of cars - and therefore people, and dogs - parked at the road end. Funny - we've always preferred our walks to be unpopulated, and now that we're actively encouraged to avoid people there are more of them around.

I've just looked at some interesting statistics published by the Press & Journal about the vaccine rollout in Scotland. Our area ain't doing so well, it seems, as some much further from the centre. January is beginning to feel very long, despite the whizzing past of unremarked days.

Blipping the view of our beautiful but freezing church from the graveyard. No hidden messages ...