Wednesday morning seems far off at the moment I’m tired. I got up, did my vitals and wander downstairs. I decide I can’t be arsed to make breakfast and walk down to the village shop to get a paper and then I onto the village café. Disaster strikes. The village café is closed. The owners have had the temerity to go on holiday and wont be back till July the 26th. I drag myself home and set about constructing a fried egg sandwich and a decaf coffee. So now I am fed I wander into the overgrown front garden. I do hours of weeding and freeing the irises from the undergrowth. This wet and warm weather is having the effect of creating a green jungle that is closing in on me. I beaver away until I can do no more. My garden is producing beauty everywhere, in some cases spectacularly so.

Alongside the blooms comes other signs of wildlife. My squirrels dig everywhere in there pursuit of storing and recovering their nut stores. I assume they are trying to help me in the garden and working along side me. They have a habit of drawing attention to unused patches of ground or empty pots.

By the time I am through with the garden there is time for a beef sandwich and Amazon deliver my new stationary to take the family archiving forward. I spend all afternoon putting photographs into page holders and documents into sleeves and setting up ring binders for various members of the family. I add a file for my sisters school reports and sketches and one for me. Mine is thin and contains some school reports from my junior school and my spectacular fail postcard at “O” level. I eventually can do no more, I run out of spoons and cannot face digging through yet more family documents, perhaps tomorrow. My partner returns from seeing her mother and I replace her car key battery as its been on the blink. We eat tea, book a hotel to be close to our youngest daughter on Friday when she is booked to have a C section and settle down for the evening and watch The Departed, with a brilliant cast including Nicholson, De Caprio, Winston and Damon, directed by Scorsese. I draft the blog in a state of spoonlessness.

There are days that drag no matter how much I try to lift myself, today has been one. I think the chemo drugs kick in from time to time to make me fatigued. As a result I am less tolerant and kind than I would like to be. I’ve no time for repeating myself or for those situation where people can’t make up their own minds and piss about trying to displace the decision or the blame for their being no decision. I just have not got the energy to be as tolerant as I want to be. Anyway its going to be an exciting few days with the arrival of Dangerous Beans and becoming a grandfather again. I think doing all the family history stuff recently has wheedled its way into me, I found myself thinking that I could at least tell my grandchildren who their great great great great grandparents were. It seems strangely important for then to know what their roots spring from, its something I’m not sure I ever had. It seems it became a family that gathered things but was not good at being people, a strange mix of appreciation and gathering but low on relating. Begs the question on how on earth I became a psychologist, perhaps attracted to the unknown.