Maybe it's that time of year and not only my age but I keep hitting incredible down times this month, times when I can hardly move, let alone create. I was brought up to report every night to my father, to justify my existence for the day, to have done something worthwhile or at least interesting. Yesterday I had nothing to report. Yesterday was a lost day. At least I wrote a blog, finally, after a few days' silence. Oh dear. I keep saying life is so inexorable and it is. One thing I learned, absolute proof of that caution I've been quoting for years:

"Keep moving or they'll throw a tablecloth over you"

By the end of a day with minimum movement (I didn't even swim, that's how bad I was), I was stiffer than usual. Today I think I should march a few corridors.

This is not a blog, it's a bleat. Think of something positive.

Well, I made two soups this week. One was a fresh mushroom soup. The other was a beef and barley soup. Both are soul-restorers. I give a lot of soup away not just because I'm nice but because one pot of soup for a single person is another definition of eternity. Robert Frost said "Good fences make good neighbours." I say "Good soup makes good neighbours." And it justified my existence this week.

That's something.