Wednesday and I wake and go through my usual routine of taking vitals and checking my socials. I can hear my partner in the office downstairs tidying up last issues of work before retiring on Friday. On getting up my first thoughts are to get the plaster off my hand and see what progress my operation scar is making, It’s a real luxury to be able to wash my hands normally and then to have a look to see how I am doing. I am doing okay apart from the swelling of the joint that is persisting and one line of the incisions that is taking longer to heal than the rest. I sterile swab my hand and then redress the remaining bit that has yet to heal with a smaller plaster than before. With that done I moisturise my hand and scars. I’m now ready for the day.

There is some puttering to do, so I spend time replacing light bulbs, emptying the dishwasher and other small but necessary chores. Of course there is always a hitch, which means that something takes longer than it should, in this case the front glasses of the lights I’ve changed will not go back in and by the time I have resolved the problem I’ve broken a thumb nail hideously, which of course demands more time and attention. By the time I’ve finished fannying about its time to go to the village pub for breakfast, which is now lunch, grabbing a paper on the way and dropping by the chemist for more sterile wipes.

I relax in the pub and enjoy my hot chocolate and eggs Benedict while I do the crosswords for the day. Its a pleasant way to have something that I would not do for myself. The local groups who have met for coffee or snacks chat about village affairs and delve down memory lane at every opportunity. Today it was the Co-Op moving to a new site and of course someone can remember when that happened in the next village down. You could sit in this place and just listen and petty soon have a comprehensive knowledge of the history of the village. This village can proudly boast at last one murderer and one international rugby player. I do not think they know they have a poet yet.

I return home and start on my “to do” list. Reading the meters is my first contribution to the smooth running of the house, so I use my phone to photograph the meters and then send the reading via the App on my phone. I calculate the usage from the last readings and take a sharp intake of breathe as I know that the usage this February has taken us beyond our budget, however as its been a cold February and the last month we will need to be quite so dependant on our heating I am content that we will be okay. I type that as it pours down with rain outside and things look a bit nippy.

Having sent my meter readings off I have a quick look in the garden to see how things are getting on. The garden seems to be getting on with it as the peonies are showing and lots of early spring bulbs are flowering alongside the Hellebores which seem to grow freely in my garden.

There is a lot more going on as nearly all the pots are showing signs of bulb activity, so if I am lucky we should have lots of daffodils and narcissus out in bloom soon. Although the potted Iris are shooting strongly it os difficult to tell at this stage if they will flower or not, they need warmth and dry weather for that to happen, which at the moment does not look likely. I start to draft the blog for the day while my partner visits her mother in the afternoon. I’m expecting a friend of my partner to arrive at some point so I postpone going to the Shed until tomorrow. For now I read and seek inspiration.

I decide to put my latest rough poem out on my PROST8KANCERMAN YouTube channel to see if there is any response and to see how it sounds, so I put in here to save regular blog visitor going to YouTube to hear it. It is more off the cuff than usual, I’m not sure if that is good or bad, or if that is relevant.