Easy edges.

I’ve been sleeping on the settee for three weeks.
It’s not a bad thing only psychologically it feels like I haven’t slept for twenty one days.
My shoulder fracture is getting better, but I still can’t drive or pull my socks up.
I sat at the computer and asked the God of Kidneys to find me the perfect renal dietician who lives locally. Fuck me but Helen turned up.
Young ,fresh faced with all the experience I needed. She sends me menus for a week, the ingredients printed out.
The recipes are healthy and my ailing body is responding.
Finally I can see my feet beyond my bloated belly.
Exercising hasn’t been possible but Helen asked the dry cleaners to have bicycle pedals fitted to my dialysis bed.
The end gets taken off and pedals are attached. I lie on my back and pedal for dear life.
Pulling in my stomach muscles – which thankfully are still there
I put earbuds in, tap into my phone and listen to Radio 3 ‘Unwind’
I cycle to Sibelius.
French choral music enables me to ride down sunny French country lanes, tasting café au lait and munching on a croissant.
I’ve done enough travelling to conjure up scenes of a past life.
Pedalling like a loon, I leave Tunbridge Wells, and cycle the dusty roads of America accompanied by Florence Price.
Samual Coleridge Taylor, also known as the Black Mahler, soothes the soul and sends me down avenues lined by leafy beech trees.
It is remarkable what the imagination, and pedalling can do.
Music and the brain works wonders. Classical and electronic music creates pictures, rock and pop not so much, although I’m not averse to a thumping good four to the floor beat.
Finding the sweet in the day requires a good amount of positive thinking. Flaming hard, but necessary.
So today I took two hot water bottles and sat in the garden. The sun peeping out of the clouds. The garden is a mess. Leaves and weeds and plant pots full of water.
Happily spring is coming, all my bulbs are coming up. I ache to get out there and do a spot of gardening but one handed weed pulling is a mission. I long for easy edges and the smell of loamy soil.
My neighbours are beyond saintly. Baking me bread and donating frozen meals.
I am getting better at receiving.
On Friday the dawter drove me to a studio in Sevenoaks. My first voice over in 2026.
We arrived early so went out for a cheeky little lunch. I had two sausages and brown sauce.
We were surrounded by dogs and babies, good for the soul.
The studio had a winding path to the front door and a real Darlek in the hallway.
I was working, remotely, with a studio in Scotland, a team of anonymous people giving notes.
After ten takes they were happy.
It’s a public announcement for National Rail alerting old fuckers to be mindful at level crossings. I was chosen for my mature voice to implore the over 75’s not to die on a railway track and to Stop! Look both ways and never cross if a train is coming.
It’s not quite ‘Mind The Gap’ but comes a close second.
It’ll be on the radio and all being well there will be usage so I can get a few pennies.
The dawter drove us home then disappeared to buy my weeks ingredients.
This morning breakfast was a frittata.
Asparagus, peas, red onion, goats cheese and eggs beaten with yogurt.
Under the grill for the omelette to expand. Well done Helen.
And so we head towards Sunday. More rain forecast and the prospect of the papers.
I have a friend who was in a loveless marriage in Huston Texas.
Her ex husband was a morose bugger who had no spirit and ignored her need for travel. Every Saturday she would buy the New York Post for the crossword which she would complete over a week, but the first thing she did was take out the travel section and rip it up.
Rather than face the frustration of knowing that city breaks and palm trees were not part of her life, she would tear up any evidence of the world around her with its beaches and al fresco dining.
She finally left him, and the dog, packed one suitcase and came back to England.
She now travels with one toothbrush and takes herself off to foreign climes whenever she can.
I don’t rip up The Observer, we use it for fire lighting, but I do turn away from the telly box when they advertise cruises and Turkish getaways
The thing about being a patient is being patient.
Things are getting better, bones are mending and kidneys are being treated. It’s the inside of the head that requires tending.
Remembering that if I get out of the fucking way my body will do the rest.
I can just about raise my arm to pull on a sweater.
It’ll be a month next Wednesday, my shoulder is knitting back together. I know that because its itchy and I can nearly reach round to scratch it.
It’s 3.00a.m. and the sofa calls.
The old git went to bed ages ago and the dawters away for the weekend.
I’m on my own with my hot water bottles and strawberry over night oats to look forward to.
There’s nowt like a bowl of Helens breakfast to put a spring in your step and a sunny outlook.
Trump can take a hike as I will sooner than later.