Saturday, awake late but early enough to make my partner a warm drink to wake up to. There is much lazing and chatting before I finally get up and have breakfast and morning meds. I set about tidying up post holiday chaos and set my laptops up ready for the weeks to come. This takes a while and then I and my partner play car shuffle on the drive so she and my eldest daughter can go to the gym and I get on with putting a curry in the Crockpot for tonight’s meal. That done I slip into my new birthday ice hockey jersey from a friend, its really good and fits like a dream.

I log on to the poetry stanza meeting. There is eleven of us, and as far as I can make out I am the only one that has never been published, that’s in a literary sense. All the book chapters and journal papers count for nothing here. The meeting lasts four hours and it is interesting how people give and take in the group, its all very polite but there is real criticism and also real appreciation. My effort was received okay.

We end just past 5 o’clock and my partner and eldest daughter have returned from the gym. I head for the garden for the first time since returning from holiday to refill the bird feeders and the squirrel feeder. The garden is being battered by high winds but some new flowers have appeared, notably some big lily and some small roses.

The family dines on the curry put in earlier and settle into the evening. I watch the strong winds continue to batter the garden and fear for the plastic greenhouse. This evening is a free form evening, by which I mean I will see what comes along, possibly read, possibly watch something on TV, perhaps reread letters or simply give myself up to whatever comes along. Whatever happens I will inevitably be taking my night meds and seeing what happens.