Friday, yippee its a work free day and time for breakfast and retreat to the shed. There in the shed I write letters and nibble elicit chocolate root ginger. I like my shed because it has my only flat desk space where I have my pens, brushes, ink and sealing waxes as I want them. All around me are my favourite books, correspondence and art materials. On the walls the art that friends have sent me and on the book rest my file of poems. Behind my chair is my exercise bike. In this shed I can sit uninterrupted and in private, either active or in power save mode. It is in this space that I allow myself to think the unthinkable and find the words that come closest to expressing it, or the symbols, daubs and strokes that try to do what the words cannot do. This shed sits in the garden which surrounds me with green, growth and a myriad of creatures, resident or passing through. This space is laptop and wi-fi free, it is civilised.
So lunch comes and goes, friends travel south, post arrives and life churns on. In this break our youngest daughter messages to say she and her partners bid for a house has been accepted. We of course ring to say congratulations but of course there is a long way to go till they step through the door of their own house and being a sensible person my daughter was being measured in her joy. On checking my emails from work I find the first edit of the podcast I recorded a couple of weeks ago. I sit and listen to me talking about my life and my work with a sense of fascination and repulsion. It is a strange feeling I get when I think it will be public in a few days. I post my letters from the morning and prepare the evenings meal, a chicken and chorizo one pot that goes into the oven while I change to train. Back into the shed I try to find a radio station that is playing music but all I get is tributes to the dead Duke of Edinburgh who died at midday today, so I train to Spotify, which keeps playing adverts so I junk it and just train. Not a bad session, just one more session to go for the week.
Time 
Calories 
Kilometres
I return to the house and check the one pot, almost ready. I learn that my partners brother is being allowed home although the MDT has not met to decide on their next treatment options. Clearly they think the risk is manageable, he was waiting to be picked up by his son to return home. I guess they will contact him when they know what they want to do. The family eats, I watch football and then write the blog. No contact from the hospital regarding my referral for my face yet. I am feeling distracted and not sure why.
