Its Thursday and I wake up feeling a bit better than the previous few days. I do not linger in bed and get up to heat up last nights chicken in wine stew for breakfast. Good to do something different now and again. It goes down quite well with my meds before I clear the kitchen and then head for the Shed. Before the luxury of letter writing I refill the bird feeders and the squirrel’s nut box (not a euphemism) and survey the state of the garden. There is no chance of my tomatoes ripening (also not a euphemism) as they are still flowering. I settle down to write my letters. As always a lot of time passes until I can write no more.

Back in the house I eat a bagel lunch and get sofa’d to read for a while. I am reading David Sedaris’s Let’s Explore Diabetes With Owls. It sharp, funny and autobiographical. It explains why his writing voice is the way it is and the behaviour of his family in his later autobiographical book Calypso.

I slip out to post my letters and soon after I return mu tree man turns up to give me a quote to remove some of the trees in the garden. Its a difficult decision but its time to remodel part of the garden to let in the light and make it more manageable in the future. Future me will be pleased I did this, its all about what can be managed in the future by me or my partner. My tree man looks around and says he will send the quote through tomorrow and it will be a December job. I return to my book and slide gently into a usual Thursday evening, Tuna pasta, the sound of my partners singing lesson, sport on TV and the drafting of the blog before downing my chemo meds and going to bed. I had hoped to train today but I ran out of spoons earlier than I had hoped but perhaps tomorrow I will. Out there in the Real World a friend messaged me today to tell me that after a lot of work and struggle her work appeal has been upheld regarding long COVID. There is still some rationality left in the world after all. This gives me hope. On the flip side my son in Sweden tells me the pictures I sent him from sisters house have arrived at customs and they have decided that he can only have them if he pays 300 Swedish krona. It’s a sort of state extortion that was not there before Brexit. It reminds me I still live with 17.2 million twats, not so rational Real World after all. I think I’m getting better.