DVT DAY 307
Saturday morning wake up and breakfast. During this time I perform my weekly ritual of filling my drugs wallet for the week. Today is the anniversary of our gardeners death, Brain. He died unexpectedly last year after a brief illness. We were taken by surprise, and I still find myself thinking of him when I walk in the garden. This is particularly poignant in the spring as the many bulbs he planted come through. In fact much of what grows in the garden so verdantly is due to his attention and skills. He was the same age as me and that added to the shock of his death.
We conclude breakfast and ring our youngest daughter to chat and catch up. Due to the work she does she is at the moment planing Christmas 2021. Apparently its a nightmare in this time of COVID. Easter is also proving to be a conundrum as no one knows whether, if lockdown ends, whether the newly released citizenry with flock on mass in four days to buy monumental amounts of Easter eggs. It a kind of confectionary roulette on the high street. Some where there will be clever spin merchants and advertising folk plotting how to turn Easter into the Christmas we never had in 2020. The difference will be getting us to eat the warehouse filled with creme eggs and the like that have been knocking about for months waiting for a market up turn. Our conversation is light and fun and a relief from the social imprisonment of lockdown.
This is the 3rd round of the FA cup so there is a wealth of football to watch. I try to resist but the pull of the cup is strong. However sometimes one has to sacrifice for the greater good especially when there is more later on. I am determined not to have my phone tell me I am obese when I weigh myself in on Sunday morning. So its time to change into training gear and head for the garage. Its bloody cold in the garage and I keep all my layers on.
Kilometres 
Calories
So for half an hour I graft on the rower and find myself quite pleased that by the end of the half hour I still find myself in reasonable shape, perhaps I am at last getting fitter.
I return to the house and make myself a breakfast smoothie and recover in front of a football match. During this time I have several fittings of my partners face masks. She is making me triple layer masks for my scan trip to the hospital and is perfecting her design. Eventually the acme of masks is achieved complete with pliable metal nose strip. So I am now fully equipped to face the virus ridden environment of a hospital.
My evening is food, football and a very long bath listening to meditative music and reflecting. Nothing earth shattering, it never is, just the general state of how I am, how the family is and how I am constructing my own personal universe in order to make sense of the world. The most difficult thing for me as I get older is resisting the irrational need for “simple” answers adn solutions. My latest is “lets shoot all the vaccine refuseniks”. Immense amounts of pleasure in this fantasy but clearly not reasonable. Perhaps its my own shortness of time that makes me intolerant and wants to keep things simple. “Life’s to short to be bothering with this” and “Who needs this in their life”, become more urgent and persistent, hence the increasing intolerance and erroded rationality.
