... how much I have deteriorated. The recent visit to Sheffield confirmed how much less I can do now and how little i can cope with strange beds and chairs. Six hundred pages of medical moans will now follow, or, as Victoria Wood once memorably wrote: "As the doctor said to me when I had my tubes tilted..."
However, I had better not. And I haven't yet had to have my tubes tilted, though I have come pretty close to it.
What has brought this on is that i have been "busy" for the last three days and today everything aches and I feel so exhausted that the prospect of doing the basic housework and the shopping looms like Mount Everest, without oxygen and a team of sturdy Sherpas to help me. AND I have the valiant Captain B to help, as he always does the vaccuuming and will pitch in with the rest if asked.
Yet I haven't even been busy in the sense that I would have once used the word. All I did yesterday was go to the Hall for a couple of hours Bible teaching, which is refreshing and comforting and keeps us going through the horrors of the crumbling system of things - half an hour on the door to door work (delivering April magazines) - a shop - and then home. Oh and i did manage to cook bangers and mash for Col's tea.
So my plan today is to get that housework done, shop, change the library books, study and then collapse. We are not going out tonight.
I expected the Black Adder pictured in The Captain's Log to look more like Rowan Atkinson than it does.
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