Tuesday, I think I start like this to remind me of the things I do on a Tuesdays, like today Tesco will deliver and the bins go out. However it is Tuesday and s usual I check my vitals and my messages. I send some as well as today is a friends birthday. My partner has already been to the shop, had breakfast and is reading a newspaper before going to an old colleagues leaving lunch. I write a poem on my new Notes App after a chat with my partner. Not like me to write early in the morning but it’s happened a couple of times recently.

438
I am like a drummer,
Someone who hangs around with 
musicians.
I just loiter around poets,
with their proper tunes and rhymes
and scribble soul notes,
random stuff with no effort to attend
to the niceties of metre or flow,
or whatever real poets do.
I listen to them in process,
I hear the nuances striven for,
the analysis of words and meaning,
and I realise I’m not even like a 
drummer, who at least keep time.
I guess I am a groupie,
because words touch me
and I am in awe of those that sculpt
them in forms that move me
to dance, laugh, sing and cry
inside my head 
or on my face.
Perhaps I’m just a lazy bastard
that just can’t be arsed,
fearing failure if I really tried,
like the dyslexic infant
who hid, played truant
and eventually escaped 
by ignoring the rules.
So now like that chid
I press my nose against a window
and wonder at the marvels
in the poetry shop window
knowing they are not for me
but for clever kids. 
This pen this ink refuses to lay down
and here I am scribbling on scraps
still looking for something
that says this is how my world is. 
Can you hear the word symphony
that’s playing somewhere
inside this private auditorium?
I’m neither stupid or uneducated
just put together different
with all the rough edges left
and unable to show my workings.
This pen this ink refuses to lay down. 	
									438 18-03-2025

When I do get up I find my partner reading he paper so I join her with my breakfast and my morning meds. I do the crosswords and then head for the garden with a club hammer intent on preparing the way for a new cold frame. As an initial step I propose to move a paving slab on to the lawn before putting the new incinerator on it to burn the old cold frames. I start to “walk” the paving slab to the lawn but it doesn’t want to go and trips my up with the result that one corner drops on my toes. Falling to the floor with a hearty “Fuck” I know I am going to have a bruise or two but need to crack on. As it turns out I am right about the bruise and the need to ICE it.

The incinerator is burning nicely as I demolish the old raised beds and redistribute the compost in readiness for a new cold frame. It a lovely sunny windless day and I am pleased to have made the effort when I hear some one down the road shouting about the fie and telling me to put it out. I carry one. The next thing I know is that my eldest daughter is standing at the bac door saying that a woman has been to the front door and been rude to her and is asking me to put my fire out because she does not want this woman back again. This is the first I hear about it. I am not chuffed but I am not going to pick a fight right now, I have cleared the area I need to put the cold frame in so I stop feeding the incinerator.

I clear away my tools and retreat inside just in time to meet the Amazon man delivering the new cold frame that I intend to install tomorrow. By the time my partner returns I am sitting feet up with icy chips strapped to my foot. After a chat I go for a bath to rest and see how my toes are doing. The bath is a real treat as I can sit back and listen to soft music and munch my way through a bacon sandwich. I languish until I start to reach the wrinkly stage so I get myself out and head for the recliner where I can continue to ICE my toes and start to draft the blog. I continue to ICE (Ice, Compress, and Elevate.) and blog till its time to stop and turn off my brain and watch TV.

The evening is slow and eventually after several ICEs and my night meds I head for bed to strap on my night splint. It would appear that my “frilly” bits are having a tricky time but come Sunday I head for a weeks break where I can rest by the sea.