Monday and I wake earl to find my partner has already got up and moved her car to accommodate the builder badgers, but she is not feeling. I get up and have breakfast, check my vitals and then clear the kitchen. My partner goes back to bed to try to sleep. The badgers arrive and I make them coffee before they start to finish off the slab laying on the patio and the back apron of the house. Its looking good and I am feeling good with the decisions we made to do this work. I am still in rest mode and think, tentatively that I am recovering from my latest Uluru attack, although I am still felling quite sensitive but I am not in pain. So while my partner rests I continue to read Yellowface. A brief lunch and more Yellowface until at 3:30pm I finish the book. It is a cautionary tale and satire on the publishing industry, given to me by a friend to warn me of the dangers of success should my slim volumes of poetry ever sell. We both know that won’t happen so the book was a kind thought and a tease. It though worth a ready and has it quite funny in parts. Its a soft read and easy read, something that you could take on holiday.
Having finished my book reading, I replaced batteries in the blood pressure monitor and started to draft the blog while my partner kept track of how her mother was doing in hospital. She has recovered well and is due out late in the evening and will be greeted by her original carer from Greece. Hopefully that will go smoothly.
The builder badgers leave for the day with the patio nearing completion and the back drain re-configured it is looking good and with luck will be complete apart from the electrics on Wednesday. Tomorrow they start work on the front drive. So the early evening arrives. I had toyed with the idea of going to to the local family history group, which meets in the village library tonight, but I am not up to it. I do not feel well enough yet to be meeting strangers and talking family histories and genealogy, so I shall pass on that and save it for another Monday night. So far there is nothing from the Americans only an acknowledgement of receiving my edited draft of Herod’s Children Crumulent Collection (HCCC), so all I can do is wait for them to send me a cover design and a final draft to edit, after which we can press on with The Cancer Years: Some Rough Stuff. Going forward I think it is likely that I will just write for the Cancer Years series, it feels as if I have mined my other poems as much as I can unless I decide my juvenilia is interesting enough, but I know it isn’t, its more like Vogon poetry, hideously juvenile and toe curlingly embarrassing.
Tonight is to be a rest night, all I need to do is amend the Tesco order for tomorrows delivery, take my meds and get an early night if I can. Recovery is slow so I need to be patient and remain focused on doing the right things.
