Hands on

Up and working in the morning, after a bad night's sleep. A strange misty day, with the mist visibily rolling in from the sea, our street just a little above the mist-line. Then I hopped on a bus and bought new sodastream gas. Standing outside the shop on Western Road and watched a dealer blatantly dealing on the main road, happened to follow the purchaser down the street, and he trailed the smell of skunk like Pepé Le Pew. They might as well have been wearing day glo jackets.

I walked to the physio for what I hope is the last time. Lay on my side listening to her talking with great animation about a variety of subjects, her massaging broken off every now and then as she kept waving her arms about to make a point. Nevertheless she did an excellent job only occasionally making me yelp when she reached the tasty stuff where the tear is. I am now much improved, however, and can walk up stairs using both legs normally, thank goodness.

Then on to see Helen and listen to the work she has done on the opening of the opera. I think it is a fine opening, which Helen said she wrote using an Octotonic scale which makes it brooding and floaty (my words, not Helen's). Always fascinating and enjoyable working with Helen.

Then by a variety of buses to Preston Park where I picked up a ticket to take me to London tomorrow, and ambled back home up the hill. Lorraine had returned from home soon after, having dropped off the girls at the station and we stole a bit more time in the garden, planting things, till it was time to go in and cook. It's all very grounding, plunging your hands in the, um, ground.