Wednesday and is been a torrid night again with my sore injection site and bad gut. I get up feeling grim but determined to get on with things. A yogurt and a coffee to start the day and I am ready to make coffee for the landscaping guys who are re- drilling retaining holes for the gates and replacing the patio handrail. They get on with the job while I clear the kitchen and pick up the post. Today s a good day as there is a letter from a friends to read. Before I settle down to the treat of a letter I need to get my car to the garage for its MOT, the problem is I feel so crap I cannot carry out my original plan of waiting in the local café, so my partner drives to the garage as well and brings me back.

Once home I have time to sit and recover and read my letter. Its is a lovely letter and as usual the write poses my questions and makes me think about how I am and what I am doing. My friend is fully engaged with family, work and community and seems to have achieved a really good life balance. With a small burst of energy I find the wood crayons I have for filing in fine cracks in flooring and other wood structures and go into the garden to fil the drying cricks in the handrail on the patio. I work the wax furniture crayons in to the handrail and finish them off with a smooth cloth. The out come is good and I return to the sanctuary of the house where I make myself lunch. I’m having trouble getting myself to eat so I go for soup and bagel as something I can face. One piece of good news is that my son has been granted his permit to stay in Sweden. This is a huge relief to everyone involved.

A friend rings me and we chat for a while until she has to pickup her daughters. With time to reflect on the letter I received today I find myself writing again and end up with a poem.

404
Its the sagging sense
that drapes itself
over me
and weighs me down.
My head won't work,
nor my gut.
I know all the arguments,
solutions and balms
but I cannot. 
A letter from a friend 
nudges me to
come out of my cave
and do the Real World.
She is right 
so I write
knowing that this
is nowhere close. 
It seems I have a new battle,
to do the ordinary,
to step onto the stage
and speak my lines,
to be author and actor 
to an audience
that is not there
but imagined for
my souls sake.
Its not that I 
do not see the world,
its blazing life force,
the surging power of its cycles,
all these things I feel and sense,
its overcoming the disconnect
which requires something I've mislaid. 
I pat my mental pockets down
finding fluff and typical school boy 
trousers and blazer stuff. 
Not the things of beauty
and inspiration. 
It is the different feeling 
in my spirit, 
the lack lustre me,
the strange taste in the mouth 
that I meet life with,
that seems to rob me 
of everything beyond words. 
Of those I have many of,
actions few. 
This is a strange labyrinth
I find myself in,
and occasionally I fancy
I hear the roar 
of a Minotaur
as I grope for a thread  
to lead me out.

                                               404 24-07-2024

As I try to relax I discover that the Post Office Enquiry is not in session but the Olympics has sneakily started with rugby sevens, so I am set for the afternoon I have the combination of fast and furious Olympic sevens rugby and the slow and demanding drafting of the blog to do. I pursue both until the evening comes along and I drift through it until the final of the Great British Sewing Bee. Seemed to me that the win was a no brainer. It comes time to take my night meds and finish the blog. All I hope is that I get a decent nights sleep to be able to pick up my newly MOT’d car and to make some realistic plans for doing things, anything!