Post 528: Alongside the salmon, ah, the salmon.
With a shopping list of food stuff on my phone, which I now share with my Darling digitally every week, there are four slices of slightly smoked salmon at the very top.
At £6.25 each, it is a pleasure to buy and eat these big slices over the weekend, and oh, what a tasty supper that is.
Keeping it simple is the name of the game; baby new spuds and asparagus and beans with a buttery lemon sauce, and the taste pays back in volumes.
And while our food is sitting pretty in the fridge, there are thoughts that change our perception of money values and modern living conditions.
However, there’s a healthy edge to this expensive weekly food that allows us both to think of it as a healthy workout on a plate; not an expensive fish that you should avoid at all costs.
And with that is the only workout we have all week.
Ha ha.
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With my second tattoo healing well on my forearm, I am firming up visions in my head of an arm of plenty; a right arm sleeve of local animals, flora and fauna to go with it.
Only animals from the sunny south-east of England where I’ve lived all my life.
While the food at the weekend is healthy, the rest of my week dissolves into a list of good and bad fruit and yoghurts, my waistband is getting larger as my weight increases with steroids and sweets.
But where am I going to put my black-and-white Prostate pin-man on Friday?
And should I wrap my right arm with the idea of that flora and fauna arm sleeve?
Then the pin-man would be better on my lower leg.
Perhaps I need to talk to the artist Gary and see if he can make all these new things happen in a seamless fashion.
Only he can tell how he wants to attack it and create my inky masterpiece.
And with the positivity surrounding this future heavy inking, I realise that the reality of the rest of my life will be peppered with real pain.
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On weekend TV, the start of Strictly Come Dancing and Traitors is a sign that autumn and winter are rolling in, but at the moment the weather seems to be bamboozling the experts with this continuing heat and sunshine now into October.
This summer is amazing; when will it end?
The bike and car shows had a magical weekend, even if I couldn’t get there, and with temperatures of 22 degrees and absolutely no rain, the little water in our small rivers around here is becoming a problem.
The problem is that because the rain has been sadly non-existent all year long, it’s up to the few of us with a conscience in the south to use less water and use it wisely.
That’s why more restrictions on hosepipe use have been publicly stated in the last week, coinciding with the measurement of there only being 23% of water left in the nearest reservoir.
The photos of it are truly worrying for the future of our tap water and more and more restrictions.
See the image.
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But thinking less about the state of our county’s infrastructure and more about me for a bit, especially how I was going to get to the hospice Monday, tomorrow, it was a bright suggestion that swam out of my ageing brain about asking an old pal who might taxi me down to the Hospice for counselling.
I haven’t seen him for a few weeks, but he agreed without any arm twisting.
Thank you, P.
Ever since he agreed to taking me down early doors, at 9am to get a coffee in the café first, I’ve had a zest for life for what the counselling will be able to do for me.
But currently I have no real plan of what to say yet.
Last time in clinic, I was really stuck when asked to explain how I feel about certain things. All it did was get myself tongue-tied and emotional.
We shall soon see what I’m like now.
See if I’ve grown.
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This afternoon, while I was half asleep watching TV, ha ha, I was rung up by medical staff from the same hospice about my health.
It’s a regular call, every two weeks or so.
This time, instead of saying, “Yes, I’m fine,” and carrying on, I had to tell them about my ever-present back pain.
I mentioned I’d be in the hospice in the morning and she was lucky enough to book me in for a doctor’s appointment at 9am, just before the counselling.
Perfect.
So I’ll be able to get some help for the pain at last, and from the people that can advise my GP, and get good advice for what pills need adjusting for my comfort, if at all possible.
The worry with all this pain is that soon enough the pain cannot be reduced and I’m left with having to just deal with it with what I’ve got, which is exactly what the hospice does best.
Looking after patients that only need pain relief.
It’s not something I’m looking forward to, but I’m realising that right now, that’s where we are all heading.
And so that’s why I’m hoping that I can get myself in gear to help myself during the short meetings at counselling.
It’s my head that is my greatest asset.
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It’s been a long, torturous, winding blog of no real backbone, but I wanted to say to you all that I’m ready for my head to be helped into shape right now, so I can again use my biggest asset to drive my body and soul back on the brighter track and away from the dark side where I’ve been for too long.
Let’s all stay on the bright side and enjoy each day as it comes, knowing that there are people that care, me included, and that matters.
I love you all xx
Take care.
