Another night struggling with fluey aches and pains. My Fitbit told me I was awake more than I actually was and told me I was overdoing it and should rest. All based on faulty data collection, heaven knows why. After a shower, a rendezvous with Rufus at Coffee #1. It was good to see him in good form, enjoying his job as Missions to Seafarers Chaplain for Wales. It's a classic industrial missioner's role, and it's sad to observe how little serious interest is taken in this key secular pastorate by the hierarchy of the Church in Wales. It was much the same fifty years ago once it became hard to secure funding. It's just as well that the work is well resourced by its major CofE charitable foundation.
Clare was in town when I got home. I cooked lunch for us and once we'd eaten I could do no more, having run out of energy. I sat in my armchair, ached and dozed for the rest of the afternoon and evening. There's going to be no early bounce back from this. I've not had a high temperature as I usually do with 'flu, and feel as if I've been poisoned. Accepting defeat, I went to bed at eight. A miserable end to a miserable year, lightened only by being discovered by my niece Veronica via Ancestry.com. My only wish for the New Year is that my sister June will be healed of the trauma of being forced to part with her, soon after birth, and feel able to speak with Veronica, meet her and tell her own story.
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