Thursday and for a change I wake up in the same bed as I went to sleep in. I get up and have breakfast before putting my washing in and checking my mail and messages. In a moment of positivity and thinking about holiday I order new trainer socks. Its a tradition, I buy new holiday socks and my partner steals them on holiday. This year I am prepared. Business down I go to the Shed where I settle down and write letters till late morning. I begin to feel a bit off so retreat to the house for a drink and a fat rascal. The post arrives and turns out to be a letter from a friend and two letters to the GP from the radiology oncologist explaining to my consultant and my GP why I cannot have radiotherapy. Life has obviously moved on by now. I am about to return to the Shed when my eldest daughter brings in another parcel from the porch. It is a box of Betty’s Fat Rascals. It has a note to say it is an early birthday present but no indication of who has sent them. So if you are reading this, Thank You very much, they are greatly appreciated.

I return to the Shed and continue to write my letters. I finish my letters and then close the Shed up and have lunch. My letters get posted and I pick up more stamps. I am cutting it a bit fine as I am due to be at the chiropodist. I drive off to my appointment conscious that the skies are darkening and threatening, my thoughts are about the washing that I hung out earlier. Arriving at the chiropodist’s I am soon sitting with my feet in a warm solution chatting to the foot angel. She scrapes, clips, buffs and lotions my feet, which makes them sing and I bounce out on feet that are holiday ready . I drive home quickly for fear of the rain but I am relieved to find my partner has taken it all in before the rain can start. I feed the squirrels and then take time to measure my vitals. Once again I am normal, healthy in fact. I read through some more documents from my sisters estate. There is one item that I share with you. At the catastrophic 60’s comprehensive that I went we had to write a post card to ourselves with the O level subjects we were taking and on what exam board. The results were then written on it and sent to you. Mine was sitting in the box I was sorting through. Its a measure of how being dyslexic just was not recognised, so I failed miserably.

Believe it or not the comprehensive was so desperate to have a six form that they let me stay another two years to do physics and chemistry A level. I didn’t get those either but I did get an English O level resit along the way. I suspect staying in that school for an additional two years kept me out of trouble with the law. I’m touched that my mother kept the evidence of my thickness, and probably the disappointment. I am called to tea and eat my Thursday tuna pasta and melon and then head for the sofa to draft the blog. My partner has her singing lesson tonight so I expect I’ll find something to occupy me. I did take a couple more pictures of some of the amazing flowers that are out in the garden.

I slide into the evening aware that I have not trained and know I have not got the spoons to do so. So this evening will be a time of being kind to my self. This will have to be enough for this day. Actually I end up filling my dugs wallets for the next two weeks, abandon watching something about a child in a family who has some chromosome defect, which is unremittingly miserable despite the witty script, at times, take my meds and go to bed to try and read. I’m tired and irritable, but my feet are happy.