On the third day of Christmas...

 ... I caught Covid, drawing to a close a year in which I have not enjoyed the best of health, despite confirming my overall fitness by walking three more sections of Offa's Dyke and climbing Snowdon.  

The year started with a Covid infection which grounded me for ten days.  In July I developed an annoying cough and a croaky voice that refused to respond to a cupboard-full of lotions and potions. The doctors (I never saw the same one twice) initially diagnosed a viral infection, then attacked it with antibiotics, before finally concluding that it was down to acid reflux. A course of Omeprazole finally did the trick and by late October I was singing sweetly once more.  

Then the year contrived to end as it had begun, with Covid - little more than a runny nose for three or four days, but sufficient to cancel a visit by my adopted aunt Sarah.  This was a great pity as it has become a family tradition over the past 20 years or so to share a fondu meal with Aunt Sarah on New Year's Eve.  So, as we had been forced to do at the height of the Covid pandemic, we rescheduled New Year.  This time it will be held on February 4th.

Consequently, on this particular New Year's Eve, just the two of us sat down for our traditional fondu meal, during which we had little option but to consume a whole bottle of champagne without Aunt Sarah's help.  Happy New Year to you all!