That super cosy Friday feeling.

I object to wintry commutes. They violate my fundamental human needs, these being: the need not get molested (i.e. hugged) at the bus-stop by a spittly, hairy-eared old man who looks alarmingly like Count Olaf; the need not to skid on drippy bus floors, grazing my knee so badly that loose skin pokes through my tights like dandruff; the need not to listen to the snarky, back-seat ferals and their imbecilic phone music; the need not to have a diseased woman do a tongue-out cough in my face; the need not to slip on a pint of sick outside of the Citizens’ Advice Bureau (my particular favourite). Winter mornings were definitely sent to destroy me - I'm literally one gulp away from tears some days.

Thankfully, I work from home most Fridays, and so such crimes against gentility are never an issue. There are no mad dashes to propel myself from bed to drizzly bus-stop (via ice-cold bath shower) in thirty minutes flat. Nope. Wintry Fridays are a treat.

Today started with a mug of tea in bed, which I drank sleepily whilst watching Everybody Loves Raymond. Molly snoozed at my side. Although busy, I interspersed my very hectic and stressy 'to-do' list with some gentle pottering: I made rhubarb crumble and custard for lunch, watered all of my plants, and learned how to thread my sewing machine. The peace and quiet is a luxury - it means I can get things done without the distraction of other people's blah. And most gorgeously, Molly is so happy to have me around that she follows and settles wherever I go, like a grey mist. She's Little Lamb to my Mary, as you can see from the photos. I love that snoring fluffball.