Just a day

First, I have to make my excuses for a photo of the same view some of you will feel you live with, as I do, and for a title so lacking in any kind of vivacity. But really, that's how it's been today. I woke from deep sleep at 8am and realised I had one of these ultra-specific sore throats, a little hot pain in one corner, maybe where a tonsil was removed almost 70 years ago ... With the realisation, of course, came the hypochondria, and I spent most of the morning feeling seedy, though coffee helped.

I suppose the most positive thing was also the most ludicrous: the small parcel that I had wasted so much time looking for the other day turned up: it was delivered by the postman. Clearly I'd translated the mail acknowledging my order into the actual thing itself. Losing it ... And the post brought with the parcel a further three parcels. Presents? More missing orders? No. Three parcels for someone living in a house about a quarter of a mile away, in another street, with the same house number and a vague similarity in Christian names. Tried ringing the delivery office: closed. What to do? No intention of dragging myself away from sticking marzipan on my cake to deliver them. Check name on Facebook. And lo: there it is, with a mutual acquaintance, no less. Sent a message - reply came back within five minutes. Ten minutes later the intended recipient was on my doorstep, suitably masked and keeping her distance. "Oh! It's you!" (Happens when you've taught in a small town for many years). Parcels handed over, nice woman says she'll drop off any of mine that find their way to her, Christmas wishes all round. Cheering - and cheers for Facebook on this occasion.

The rest of the day just passed. I wrapped more presents, slept a bit, felt low. Stress about everything kept breaking in. Did Italian to banish it. Have just quashed more potential stressful thoughts before bedtime. Blipping the Firth this morning - a nice wee red boat and a distant hunter-killer submarine.

Fingers crossed ...