Saturday and a truly laid back start to the day, spending a long time in getting up and only emerging when feeling suitably decadent at having lazed for so long. When I did finally get up I indulged in a fried egg sandwich to go with my morning meds. The planned visit to a local battle field went out of the window and in stead I joined my partner in the garden to plant up winter pots, hanging baskets and to generally tidy up. In my tidying phase I found a newly dead rat, which I quickly buried in the small animal cemetery that all read contains a family of mice that drowned in the bird seed bin, and a pigeon that brought a beak to a claw fight and lost. With the rat interred and the plant all in I settled down to watch rugby on TV.
Before I knew it it was early evening, tea was ready and my eldest daughter was at the lunge door wondering why my partner and I were not watching Strictly Come Dancing. It was already 15 minutes past dance off time but when I changed channels they were only introducing the couples, no idea what they were playing about at for the first quarter of an hour. Like millions of others we sat and pretended we had opinions that counted or that we knew anything about dancing, although my partner did get her gold medal and I got my bronze way back in the dark agers of our respective youths. She because it was that sort of school she went too (they did Latin for two years!) and me because that was where you could meet girls and get close enough to hold them. Anyway we watched, commented and amused our selves with our observations.
At the end no one wanted to take responsibility for changing the channel on the TV so I did and for the next hour and a half at least we watched programmes about Luciano Pavarotti, amazing bloke, and even more amazing singer. I took my night meds and went to bed hoping that my late getting up would not affect my sleep.
Sunday and I wake quite sprightly and make warm drinks for my partner and I. Today might be a busier day than yesterday. On getting up I am gifted two miracles! the first is two double yoked eggs for my fried egg sandwich and second the angelica plant and small acer trees outside the kitchen window have been bedecked with spiders webs, which in he misty morning hang like lace doylies in the garden. Absolutely fabulous!
With the fridge empty my partner and I take Elsie ( the new SUV) to the garden centre butchers to get meals for today and tomorrow. Our favourite coffee house is rammed so we return home for drinks. I unpack the storage boxes that will contain the hundreds of soft toys that have been acquired and then I watch rugby on TV while catching up with drafting the blog.
I check that I have a supply of soluble paracetamol as tomorrow is my 28 day injection day. Its that time again and its on the right hand side this time which means it is liable to be worst than usual. If it is bad I will lose a couple of days as my body protests at the introduction of more chemicals. Its my fist injection since starting steroids so I am intrigued to see if it makes any difference. So at the end of the evening I down my night meds with a non alcohol lager and head for bed gritting my mental teeth for the day to come.
