The plan today was for a trip into Wales. That got the kybosh due to the other half’s poorliness (he’s got the lurgy, hence yesterday’s attention seeking coughing fit at hospital). So instead we thought we’d stick closer to home and head off to Church Stretton and do a bit of walking round Carding Mill Valley. Well we got there. We parked. We walked for about 15 minutes then the other half turned a whiter shade of pale (my most hated song ever by the way) so we gave up and came home, but at least I took a photo (and got some fresh air).
And that’s about all there is to report on the ‘doing’ front. I’m afraid today has been a bit of a wobbly day for me (though not as wobbly as for my other half who is now, 5.15pm, tucked up in bed with a bottle of Night Nurse and the latest Wickes catalogue). I know I’m going to have ups and downs with this whole cancer malarkey – it’s just that I want someone to write me a note to excuse me from having to do the down bit (or indeed any of it).
Anyway thanks to those who helped out this morning when I was thrashing about in a pit of self-pity. I think the upshot is that sitting around in my dressing gown every day until the early afternoon just thinking, thinking, thinking is not doing me any favours. Not least because said dressing gown is held together by toothpaste stains, cat fur and assorted other dirt and may well kill me by giving me Ebola or something similar before anything else gets the chance. So thank your lucky stars that today’s photo is of a nice Shropshire hill rather than my revolting dressing gown – it was a close run thing.
Well, tomorrow is another day. Hopefully I’ll be a bit more up and at ‘em and even if I’m not I promise I’ll try to get that dressing gown in the washing machine. Or maybe ceremoniously burn it.