Sunday, and my partner and her brother go to see their mother in hospital. I lay in and take my vitals before getting up to make breakfast and take my morning meds. I am not feeling as chipper as I could bit I shower and pull on real clothes as I prepare to meet friends for lunch. It should be doable and I am about to leave when I check my messages to find that one of the group has had to go to A&E to sort out a hearing implant that has become detached. As result the lunch gets cancelled. It is a real shame but cannot be helped. It means that I have missed both the poetry stanza and the friends lunch, which is dissappointing.

My partner and I drive to a garden centre and have a meal before we buy some garden boxes and fibre pots to move some of the seedlings on. On return home I get out of me real clothes and revert back to trainers and T shirt. I do nothing, literally nothing. Eventually I watch more of a current drama, which carries on into the evening until the days football highlights are on TV. Then its meds and bed. A day that started with lots of promise that turned into ash.

Monday, I wake to an empty house. Eldest daughter at work and partner once again visiting her mother in hospital. I take my vitals, change into my training gear and make breakfast. I was looking forward to toast but as there was no bread I satisfied my hunger with a scone. I took my morning meds and then made my way to the garage and strapped myself into the rower. Its three days since I last trained so I was expecting a tough twenty minutes. As it happens it turned out alright.

The session is okay, I go further than I have before since restarting and I burn a few more calories. I rest on the sofa for a while until I go out into the garden and sit on the swing seat listening to old radio comedy programmes. Its actually quite cold so eventually I return inside and make myself soup. The post brings me two and one half litres of wood oil and a big bag of peppermint creams, which I stash away. My partner returns from the hospital where it appears that the ward team are not sure what they are doing with my partners mother. It is a source of great frustration. I begin to draft the blog for the last couple of days while waiting for the Tesco delivery and thinking about what processes there might be to apply to my partner’s mother’s situation.

My evening sees a meal and the final episodes of Strangers. A straightforward TV fest although I did scribble the bones of a poem, but I think this one will remain with me. I take my meds and get to bed, tomorrow is a training day again.