Sunday and I wake up with blood results my first thought. I go downstairs make drinks and return to bed with my phone. Still no blood results, so it will be after midnight if at all now. I weigh myself more in hope than any sense of earnt reduction. I weigh in at 96.3 kilos. That’s a decrease of 1.5 kilos. I have no idea how that has happened, I cannot believe that two sessions on the rower have made this difference. So starts the Sunday clear up, kitchen followed by some hoovering, I wonder if Tolstoy or Alan Ginsberg or even Tempest do or did their own hoovering. Any way its probably a comment on my lack of creative urge at the moment. So my partner and have a late breakfast bacon sandwich and then crack on with house organisation. I undertake a complete stock take of my quartermasters stores complete with clip board. I discover that there are some very out of date cans which I pop into a bag There will be a sort out and those still in date can go to the Sainsburys food donations. I am eerily fascinated what someone would do with a can of five bean salad and a tin of prunes. I suspect these are hangovers from the COVID Boris boxes we received. Anyway by the time I’m finished there is a list and I am clear about what we have a surfeit of (tinned tomatoes) and what we require (baked beans). I was gratified to find a Christmas pudding, which means I’m ahead of the game for the coming one. I might now hunt around for bargain crackers and other Xmas goodies, if I play my cards right I could have the festive season sorted by the end of July.

I’m knackered by the mornings efforts, I suddenly run out of spoons so I retreat to the sofa and Glastonbury on BBC i-player. First up is Haim, who are cracking and a band I a would go and see live. George Erza follows in a surprise appearance, average and then Celeste, not my cup of tea and finally Wet Leg do a short gig, energetic but middle range. Declan Mc Kenna follows in what looks like a scout uniform and strange shades, with a drummer that looks like an old colleague who is actually at Glastonbury selling fish finger sandwiches. Life can be strange but true. Diana Ross bless her, such a strong back catalogue but unfortunately she now sings flat but hey at 78 who gives a toss, certainly no one in the mainly pissed, stoned and tuned in crowd. Truly more karaoke than smooth superstar. Whilst watching my eldest daughter plaits my hair for me.

So I continue to watch through Elbow and drift into the evening. My sister calls and lets me know she is going in to hospital tomorrow for a minor routine procedure but might be in over night. She is letting me know what is going on and to tell me that on the paper work I am named as her next of kin. I guess this is a necessary piece of medical bureaucracy. She also tells me that she will not be signing a DNR as she wants them to do everything to save her if anything goes wrong. Noted. I wish her luck and promises to ring me when she gets home . I head into the evening unclear about what I will be doing except intermittently checking to see if my bloods are in. My evening passes with light drama followed by Kelly Holmes documentary about being gay in an army that viewed it as illegal. I like to think things have changed. I make one final check to see if my blood results are in. They are! I’ve not got the time to check things in detail but my eGFR is 61 the highest its been since November 2019, that’s unexpected. Crucially my PSA has dropped again for the third time in a row. It’s down 0.2 to 0.8, the lowest its been for a year, another surprise but very welcome. The rest of the results seem to be there or there about. I am surprised these are better than I had hoped for given my recent COVID and infections. I go to bed to hopefully sleep more easy.