Saturday and its all Olympics from morning to night. After an initial Olympic blast, breakfast and waving our youngest daughter off my partner and I set to and clean the house in an attempt to clear the house for the week. After a veritable orgy of hoovering, dusting, polishing and putting away I moved onto cleaning out the fish tank. An hour later the fish are waving out the clear front of their tank and generally joining in the social milieu of the lounge. The evening gets taken with a film, “Domino” an appalling film but based on the life of Domino Harvey, a woman born in Hammersmith, London and after time as a DJ ended up in America as a bounty hunter. She died as a young woman from an overdose. Her life story sounds intriguing but the film that used her as a vehicle was a sad parody. Perhaps one day someone will make a more honest film about her.
Sunday and its more early morning Olympics over breakfast. It is disturbingly addictive even when the Brit looses. However life cannot be all TV sport so I relocate the track camera in the garden and clear some of the pond weed. My partner and I indulge in a scone and then head for her mothers. I take my tools and set about trying to mend a couple of broken light weight hoovers. I sit quietly trying to sort out whether I can cannibalise the two machines but ultimately I end up using glue and tape to make a usable single unit.
One joint glued 
One end foot taped in.
We return home after coffee and biscuits and set about having an evening meal before I settle down to write the blog and wait for the next episode of Baptiste.
Tomorrow is a full day for me with interviews and work sessions. I tip toe towards my next oncology appointment not sure of direction or whether what I am doing is helping. It makes keeping the routine of looking after myself hard. I need to suck it up and grit my teeth and make this coming week one of strict diet and training before we go away for a weeks break. I need to reassert my control over my intake and keep my discipline, there is a battle to be fought. There is no winning this but it is how it is fought that counts. I must not let myself lose sight of time.
