Post 434: And the Living Is Easy.
It’s a nothing day today after I weigh myself.
Well, it is the day before my nephew’s wedding in a hotel by the sea, but that’s all. Ha ha.
The scales lied again.
10st 13lbs. (Eek!)
Now that’s not fair. I’ve had a Father’s Day meal at the pub with a beer, and two roast dinners in the heat this week, so how on earth have I dropped to my lowest weight since I was a little lad?
I know that if I eat, like I do now, a massive plate of salad with sardines on top, I’m in heaven. Fit to bursting too.
Oh, would you lot shut up!
There are a couple of common gulls on the flat roof behind us having a party, disturbing my concentration and bashing my ears with their incessant screeching and humping noises. Give it a rest, why don’t you!
So, back to my plate and bowl.
I’m having breakfasts too, and the odd massive bag of those red onion and vinegar shell-type crisps that are simply to die for. Oh my, yes.
The other thing is that I only loosen my bowels every few days, but that’s not exactly breakfast conversation, is it?
I overdid the physio on my shoulder this week and, as if I needed more pain, I damaged the muscles down my side beneath my armpit. Bugger, it hurts.
I don’t even put on a T-shirt now because getting it over my arm is too painful, and then it aches all day. A shirt is much easier, so that’s the way forward for now.
After the shock of the scales, I’ll move on to the book. Yes… that book. My book.
I’ve not done too much yet, apart from a bit of research, of course.
My eldest bought me two books to help me on my way. The first turned out to be more of a workbook, so he followed it up with a fascinating book about writing a memoir.
Now, a blog turned into a book isn’t quite the same as a memoir, but I’m slowly beginning to understand the way my mind is taking in the ideas about memory and value.
It’s not so much that every fact has to be perfectly right. It’s more about remembering how it felt for you. Not an hour-by-hour testimony of dire consequences, but an honest account of how you overcame those moments and how you remember them happening.
As I say, it’s interesting.
The book is a New York Times bestseller of some description, and I know it’ll help me slip into that rare thing—a writer’s head—for long enough to get things down on paper.
My Darling has gone to the weigh bridge, and the house is quiet. More and more, those three pedestal fans, which still haven’t arrived, are bugging us.
It’s very hot, even with a bit of a breeze today.
Personally, I love the heat and hate the cold, but right now even I’d appreciate a nice cool breeze.
The physio this afternoon turned into just a phone call due to the extreme heat, and that was probably for the best. As I said, I’ve hurt myself trying to repair myself, so I need a rest.
Mimi agreed when she rang later. She arranged to see me again in two weeks.
Great.
But then I looked at the calendar and realised that couldn’t happen because it’s Mum’s interment day up at the church graveyard.
So I frantically rearranged the physio for the following week.
Why is it I forget so many appointments these days? I always thought I was quite good at remembering things.
Ah well. It’s sorted now.
Three weeks’ time it is.
My Darling came home and we agreed on an amount to give the happy couple as a wedding present, and I sent it off through the wonders of online banking.
There was a time when every new payee I added to my account got checked, double-checked and triple-checked before I dared press the button.
Now, a quick glance is all it takes.
Gone are the days, twenty-five years ago, when I thought I was pioneering this whole internet banking idea. Times move on, improvements are made, and I don’t have the same fears about sending money anymore.
With all the checks and balances now in place, it feels much safer.
When it was done, My Darling and I were rewarded with a flood of thanks via personal chats online from the happy couple.
I had entered the right account details after all.
Fabulous.
Big Sis arrived for her usual Friday visit, but unusually she and my brother-in-law were only stopping briefly before heading off to the family get-together at an Italian restaurant near the sea with their son and the lovely brides Mum and Dad.
I think it’s a great way for everyone closest to the wedding to spend a relaxing evening together before the big day.
We all had a good chat while they were here and shared an olive or two.
The olives were addictive—but unbelievably powerful.
After one, you needed a fire extinguisher. After three, you were in spicy heaven.
Boy, were they hot.
That set my brother-in-law off with a sting in his mouth and fire in his belly.
There was little else left to do except pop next door later for a haircut.
Our eldest and his wife had arrived after the long drive down from Cumberland and were spending the afternoon with his brother, no doubt talking dogs and babies.
I was already in bed by the time they arrived, so I didn’t get to hear their latest thoughts about our youngest’s fiancée and the growing baby bump.
That will have to wait until tomorrow.
Until then, stay cool.
Our fans are still on a lorry somewhere.
Where? I’ve no idea.
Oh well, there’s nothing we can do about it.
Good night.
Take care.
