under another sun

Feeling a bit meh due to the shingles jab I think. My arm is the most painful it has ever been after a jab, Really hot and inflamed and my whole upper arm is sensitive to touch. A blood test this morning, but was in and out in two flicks of a vampire's cloak. Otherwise a bit of ineffectual writing this morning. Just not on it today. Lorraine and I managed to make a bit of progress in the garage and we scooted off to the tip again with a load of drawers and broken bits of cupboards and so on. Could easily have just slept this afternoon, but really needed to have achieved something. And we did. Lorraine and I to The Old Boot Inn this evening. We met Steve, Andy, Chris, back from Dubai, brought his friend Julie, a warm friendly Irish woman who within minutes was reciting W.B.Yeats for the win. Also Debbie, who I am getting to know and finding very nice.  Friday's revolving cast of rebooters is great.  Ate a fish pie there, with too many peas. 

Lorraine and I discussing colours this morning. Our chosen off white for the kitchen is coming out a bit mauve and nobody wants that. Irritable morning, disrupted by having to clear up for the brothers to continue their decorating, then having to go off for a blood test, where the medical assistant told me that he'd lived in Seaford as a child but hated it as a teenager as there was nothing to do. Greg and Dan did not return due to reasons and say the quote underestimated the amount of work, so we are adjusting our ask a bit.  Straight to the gym from the surgery, where I did a fairly (for me) substantial workout which got the grrrrs out. I am pressing the refresh button on my own health, as I am too fat at the moment, and would, on balance, prefer to continue living for a bit longer. Listening as I mooched to a BBC series of podcasts called Marianna in Conspiracyland where the BBC's misinformation correspondent talks to lots of lunatics about their conspiracies and their dang...

A good night's sleep in my own bed, and cooler overnight too. Lorraine and I with a list of things that must be done. I had a work offer for the time I was on holiday to reject in a way that encourages future business, and to write to Robin about guests next season on Planet Poetry. We got on a bus together and I hopped off at the Stein and dropped of our 'wet' signed contracts with the solicitor in case we are able to swap them while we are on holds. Then I walked up to the vampire section of hospital outpatients. A ticketing system, with only one phlebotomist there. I was told the wait would be an hour or an hour and a half. Looked at my ticket and there were twenty people ahead of me. After twenty five minutes only three people had been seen so I walked down the road and found a cafe where I was passive aggressively served a cup of tea and a sandwich in the Portland cafe. When I returned to the waiting room there were three phlebotomists and my number had just gone. Argh...

In a bit of a frenzy trying to get everything done this morning. The Germans asking me to tweak the copy, which I did rapidly. Then, thanks to Robin's rapid response, I was able to upload the podcast. I ordered a cab with my new taxi app, and zoomed off to Hove Polyclinic for the second time this week. Hove  Polyclinic makes me feel sad, as I last went there with Janet.   Today I was twenty minutes early, and had to wait half an hour. The Phlebotomy nurse exclaimed in horror when she saw my arms: Where are they?  Meaning my elusive veins. However she struck oil with the first jab.  Another cab home, to do a few more bits and pieces urgently, and have a bite to eat. Bob called, and there is a Spring meeting in the offing. Then yet another cab (rule of three). The cabby sharing his opinions, 'no offence... but people coming down from London have ruined Brighton.' Arrived at the Saint George's Inn a couple of streets below the hospital at the same moment as Anton. ...