Tuesday at 6 o’clock i am swallowing meds and going back to sleep. When I do get up its to move the car so my partner can go to the hospital to be check for post COVID clots. I wave her off and head for the patio to drink coffee, munch honied toast and do puzzles. My neighbours have the tree surgeons adn gardeners in so my peace and quiet is rudely interrupted by chain saws. No warning, that would have been neighbourly, I knew I did not like them, bastards. So I struggle on through the racket and then retreat to the Shed. I stow the bird seed delivery along with the new bag of peanuts for the squirrels. I settle down to write a letter.

My partner reappears having been x-rayed, EKG’d and CT scanned. No post COVID blood clots but she has a hiatus hernia, which explains the reflux that she has been experiencing. Nice to know. We drink tea and coffee on the swing seat in the garden and chat our situation through. I’m hungry and prepare chicken soup which I eat in the Shed. To my surprise I have WiFi, it must be a calm and sunny day. I write another letter and then make my pilgrimage to the post box. By the time I return the new kitchen tap has been delivered as has my new Muriel Bradbery book, The Writers Cats. I retreat to the Shed and ring the plumber who gives me a date for next Wednesday at 8:30ish. I then settle down and read my new book cover to cover. If you like Muriel Bradbery you will like this.

The real world calls me back as I clear away cat sick from the garden stepping stones and then I feed the hedgehog. Whilst on a roll I review the garden camera and download the latest crop of hedgehog photos. I replace the camera, eat tea and draft more of the blog before settling down to watch tonight’s international football. To think I could be at a conference saying farewell to my working life. Onward.