Sunday

It is Sunday. It is just me, the nun’s dog and the London Marathon on the telly. The sun has come out after early rain an I feel like doing nothing. Not because I am lazy or because I hurt but because I just need to be. Frantic on Friday driving to South Yorkshire and back having got tied up with a little post-funeral house keeping. Cooking meals…family day out in 25 degree (77 in proper measures) in an outdoor shopping place and then the garden centre. I was in my wheelchair as I wasn’t walking so well – still – and it is hard work. Wanting to stand walk just nip off int a shop becomes all such a hassle…a problem…always needing someone else.

Saturday night was cooking, simple starter of pate followed by stir fried duck and walnut as you ask – and wine…a lot of wine. Lostening to my late fathers wife prattle and prattle…sometimes too much of what a son doesn’t want or need to know. Hearing about people who have suddenly popped up into life as helpers becoming instant besties…in vino veritas they say but in vino too much veritas. It was long…way way too long and I ducked the drive back today. Good reason as I wouldn’t be up to go to work tomorrow.

Cross—I am so so cross at what I heard.

So today I am just taking time for me…

…well and you if you read this far.