I managed to push a razor blade (just a loose blade, not a razor head) into the side of my right index finger tip this morning while cleaning out my bathroom bin. I think the only thing that stopped it going further was my nail.

Safe to say, having a half functional index finger on my dominant hand is making everything hard work, but I only have my self to blame for putting it in there...

The short days are making me SAD, it's goign to be a while till i get into winter mode.

Shops selling halloween stuff here have already moved to christmas stuff... don't most people buy halloween crap last minute?

I had a really sore throat last week, but it started to get much better by Thursday/Friday. I had plans on Friday and Saturday night, so went out. My throat is now as sore as it was last week again.

WellI started typing this one earlier and it has evolved rather thanks to a flurry of WhatsApp messages with my brother, which demonstrates something as he's usually quite monosyllabic in his messaging. Anyway, back to the whinge:

I've been busting my hump at work.this week but have Thursday and Sunday free, so have been planning out batch cooking and nights out. It might sound a bit anal but I'd often be coming in, having a snooze, jumping in the shower and heading out again, so everything needed to go like clockwork.

So tomorrow/Thursday I was down to see my brother and his family for lunch and my uncle was coming over, which would give me the opportunity to help my niece box off her history project. The background is a looooong story but my uncle is depressed, probably on the Spectrum and had an upbringing that all mean he's a bit tricky to pin down. We got used to planning around Man City fixtures but he'd often be unavailable or drop plans for reasons that remained opaque. So I suppose it shouldn't be a big surprise when my brother informed me that he'd baled on lunch tomorrow.

Then the WhatsApp messages started... Apparently, my uncle wasn't coming because of a woman. Now there are monks in remote monasteries that have more luck with women than him. In fact, there had only ever been one to my knowledge about a decade ago - a lady from Canada who almost moved in but he panicked when we pointed out that, if he went along with her plan to sign over half the ownership of his flat (so she'd feel secure enough to move with her daughter), then her husband (they weren't divorced at the time) could have some claim over his flat. Well.it turns.out that the new woman is the old one returned.

Now it was never clear if she was trying to scam him but he is vulnerable, but no more so than no - my Dad has been his big brother/little father since he was born (my Dad first met my Mum when my granny was pregnant with my uncle) but he died during lockdown and my uncle's last surviving sibling is my auntie who is in a secure dementia ward because her drinking got out of hand again during lockdown (the family seems either susceptible to Wernicke-Korsakoff's). So everyone that kept an eye on him (technically my Dad, not his sister) is no longer there and my brother is worried about him. As am I, but I don't see there being much we can do - he's an adult and, even if it turns out badly, he wouldn't be the first person to act foolishly over love.

And that's how my winge evolved over the day.