Out of sorts

Out of sorts and finding it hard to achieve anything. Predictably this malaise is manifesting itself in a semi-permanent sore throat, periodic snuffles, exhaustion to which I can now add hypochondriac brooding about a weird lump between my ribs that is sensitive to the touch. The earliest appointment I can get for my doctor is the middle of next week, so luckily there is plenty of time to think about it. Miserably declined an invitation to go to Lewes tonight to see fireworks with Mark, reasoning that standing about in the cold for four or five hours would not help.

Worked at a poem and made it worse, wrote a blog post for my site, which took forever before I decided it was too lame to post. There are a wealth of more important things to be done, but they are all seem too complicated and difficult. And even setting up an appointment to see my bank has proved impossible.

In other news a pleasant man came to connect the broadband, which will definitely help. Another man came to assess the boiler for gas safety. One of my clients paid me too, which was very welcome. Cooked a bangers and mash style repast for Mrs Kenny, for nothing comforts my wife more than mashed potatoes. Lorraine working very hard this week, which makes my inability to do anything seem even lamer.

Below this is the perfectly pleasant view from my study, one morning when it wasn't raining. Small houses and nice trees as far as the eye can see.