Wednesday, bin day but it isn’t. I wake up in a dopy state at 10 o’clock and realise its a disaster. No one put the recycle bins out last night or early this morning, the result is our recycling will be with us another two weeks. There will be serious compacting to do. I get up and do coffee and drugs. Life becomes a slow motion procession from one minor task victory to another, each one a spoon sapping effort. First its another Lateral Flow Test just to make sure yesterdays was not a fluke. I laze for a fretful 15 minutes but my test comes up negative. I am confident that I’ve just had a really crap cold and a more than usually bad response to my monthly injection. Onward then. I feed the hedgehog and realise that I am running out of his favourite Prickles meaty supper so I order in a dozen cans. I top up the squirrel feeder and the bird feeders. I then settle down with the De Montfort Hall What’s On and mark my possible interests. I succumb to the temptation and book seats for Dr John Cooper Clarke. He’s a man who has made a living out of poetry, perhaps the poetry coyote can learn something from him. All of this takes it toll so I go to get a paper and a baguette at the village café. On the way I stop to take a picture of the magnolia tree that always amazes me at this time of year.

I get home safely from the café and then read our gas and electricity meters, I guess this is to prepare for the the new energy cap and to assuage some sort of anxiety. Of course this entails buggering about with the appropriate apps on my phone and laptop thus extending the process by at least 300%. I’m seriously running out of spoons now so I down load the garden camera to see what my hedgehog has been up to while I’ve been ill and away. It would seem my hedgehog is a brave little he/she or extremely unobservant, which in combination with next doors cats thickness seems to make a survival ecosystem. See below:

So my hedgehog is alive and thriving by the look of it and clearly able to see off the cat with a hoggy “if you think your hard enough” look. I replace the camera in the garden and flop on the sofa. Social media is quiet today as friends get to grips with their Real Worlds. It would appear at the moment that people have more then their fair share of aggravation to deal with. I’ve now hunkered down, no spoons left so I draft the blog early so as to have at least something down. This recuperation is going to take a while, my natural instinct is to sleep and then get myself into the gym and “sweat it out of me” but to be frank I’ finding it difficult to get up for it. Perhaps its age or a combination of age and existential anxt. My partner arranges dates with friends and I fix my immediate attention on the weekend ahead when we are going away to Buxton to see a show. Pace is the key and kindness to myself. This evening is a foreign land.