Not at my best

Later on Monday I caught up with the emails – always a good start to the week – and did some work on the hospital book. But the end of the week was not at all like the beginning. Tuesday was ok; lots of prep, and the final Artlift session at Cheltenham, full of people who had really enjoyed their sessions. I practised for a gig and did lots of work on the hospital book, and in the evening saw Eddie the eagle, which was a bit schmaltzy but good.

On Wednesday I spent quite a long time over an email to do with my mother’s finances, and had another practice for my gig. I spent ages on Artlift work, and prepared for a talk I have to give this afternoon. And then I went to give blood. They wouldn’t take it; anaemic again, even though I’ve been taking iron tablets. This always makes me feel a failure.

It was lucky, though, that I left early, because I had to get to Wolverhampton for my gig and the traffic was terrible. I arrived with 10 minutes to spare; normally I would be much earlier than this. And the gig went really well – Jane Seabourne and Emma Purshouse, my fellow poets, were on top form, and the audience really enjoyed it. I even had time when I got home to catch up with the emails.

On Thursday I had my group in Hereford; still only two of them, but boy, are they good. Having small numbers meant we could spend quite a lot of time on editing, and they really understood it all. In the afternoon I worked at Cheltenham hospital. And I mowed the back lawn! It looked awful, as it always does after the first cut. I had to go over it again on Friday to pick up the loose clippings, because the grass was a bit too long and damp for my mower to manage the first time.

But oh, I didn’t feel well. Cystitis again. I had to go to bed really early – but I knew I had a doctor’s appointment for something else in the morning, so that would be ok.

Except that it wasn’t. She said that there was no infection, and actually I was  feeling a bit better. So, I did my end of month and end of year accounts, caught up with the emails, did all the writeups, paid a lot of Poetry on Loan invoices, and did a lot of prep for this week (which is going to be busy).

But on Friday night, I was so ill. I called the out-of-hours service in the morning, and was prescribed some stronger antibiotics, and apart from collecting the medicine from the chemist, I was pretty well wiped out for the weekend. The Bloke and I usually go out and do something active on Sundays, but the most we could manage was to see Zoopolis, which had good fur and some excellent lines.

I’m still not at my best, but I’ll try to make the world a better place, one carrot at a time. (It’s ok; I haven’t lost it completely – that’s a quote from Zoopolis).

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