I THINK I’m turning into a Moomin.

I say this not because I am turning into a two-dimensional cartoon of a Finnish hippo-type creature, but because I seem to have gone into hibernation mode (which the Moomins were very sensibly quite religious about).

It all started when I broke up for the New Year bank holiday. God knows when that was, because, as a friend and I established over a glass of wine, there’s no such thing as days of the week during that period between Christmas and New Year, only times of the day. And they’re not actual times, such as 10am or quarter past three, they’re times such as ‘is it time for something to eat again?’ and ‘it must be time for a drink’ and ‘it’s probably time to take the dog out, he’s got a funny look on his face’.

So I snuggled up at home with a movie and a nice glass of something soon to be forbidden during dry January with every intention of going out to celebrate the New Year the next day — only to find 24 hours later that I was still snuggled up in my scruffs, drinking more of the nice stuff and I’d been hit by complete inertia. I had to admit it — a pyjama day had crept up on me without me even noticing.

I even went to bed at 9pm on New Year’s Eve only to wake with a harumph at a series of loud bangs before I realised it was midnight and they were fireworks and I really ought to rein in my inner curmudgeon.

This hibernation phase lasted right into this week, exacerbated by a day with the lurgy which meant another day confined to the couch, and while I am now physically back in the real world and sitting in the office with my real colleagues doing my real job, my brain is definitely still convinced it’s a bank holiday and I should be back in the house doing not much of anything useful.

I know for a fact my brain hasn’t joined the rest of us in 2017 yet because it’s struggling to wrap itself round one particular story which appeared in yesterday’s paper.

According to said story, online retailer Amazon reckons it will at some point in the future, possibly sometime between time for something to eat and time for a drink, be able to deliver our online goodies via a drone.

It says there’s going to be a big airship in the sky — known as a flying warehouse — and drones will whizz down with our books and our bed linen and our packs of socks and somehow drop them off to us.

I’d better warn the Adver’s receptionist as it’s going to be like a Heathrow runway in here given the number of staff who have their deliveries sent to the office.

Also, surely this means we’ll be forever being bonked on the head by our parcels? Or will the drones hover above the rooftops and simply drop our deliveries to the ground? And how much use it that if your order happens to include a china tea set?

Most terrifying of all in this scenario is that shuttles will not only be used to send up fresh stock but to send workers to and from their airship for work. I mean, how do you nip out at lunchtime to grab a sandwich or post a letter?

What’s really got me scratching my head about all this though is how this new-fangled delivery system would match up with my experience of online ordering.

For instance, how is the drone going to leave a ‘sorry you were out’ card? How is it going to confuse my address and deliver to a neighbour’s? Or, as happened once with a certain often-slated delivery firm, how will it choose which random house further up my street to drop my parcel off at and leave me a cryptic note saying ‘delivery fulfilled’.... but not in the manner you were expecting?

Of course, the more likely scenario is that I’ve lost track of the days so badly and been hibernating for so long that it is in fact April 1 already.

Sign up for Stacie

WHAT sad news to hear Stacie Pridden is back on the transplant list.
The 26-year-old has regularly featured in the Adver throughout her battle with pulmonary hypertension, which two years ago led her to have a double lung and heart transplant.
At first all seemed to go well, but now Stacie’s body has rejected the transplant and she needs another double lung transplant.
Stacie says she’s “extremely lucky” she is still young and is able to go back on the list for another operation — nine out of 10 people can’t, apparently.
The fact that Stacie, who has remained brave and positive throughout her ordeal, counts herself as lucky certainly puts all our minor niggles and problems into perspective. 
I’m sure I’m not alone in wishing her the very best and I hope she receives a succesful transplant very soon. If you’re still looking for a New Year’s resolution perhaps carrying a donor card might be a good one. It could save the life of someone like Stacie.

Do they care?

HERITAGE stalwart Mike Pringle makes a very good point when he complains about Swindon Council’s reaction to the fire at the Coate Agricultural Museum.
A measly bit of fencing was propped round the damaged building and no security guard was put in place to keep it safe.
Dr Pringle and his colleagues tried their best to keep an eye on the situation.
“Of course we understand that it was the holidays, but it was the holidays for us too,” he said.
Life does indeed go on throughout the festive period and many of us — journalists included — have to work, so why could the council find no one to look after these important artefacts of our agricultural past?
Could it be nothing to do with the fact that it was the holidays but rather that the council doesn’t give two hoots about our heritage at the best of times?