Wednesday, back at 69

So a full day back in England and I slept so well at the flat in a freshly made bed. I'd washed the entirety of my bed linen, including the undersheet protector, prior to going down to the Dee Valley.

The sun was shining as I got off the number 7 on Vicar Lane and went and bought some 'essentials' for the flat: banal toilet paper and bland toilet cleaner: both whiter than white. And a nice selection of veg to whip up a nice dinner, which was a halloumi based biriyani - but without the sauce.

And I had the official letter about a PIP assessment which neither I nor Glenn can make so I will be postponing and hoping the one postponement doesn't clash with the expected cataract surgery? Why is there only one postponement ... Oh well, I will go along with one eye covered and affect a pirate accent - sounding like I am from Bristol - and hobble on the left foot and stumble on my right knee. Oh the joy of getting passed 'it' if I was ever capable of 'it'?