A rebel without a clue.

Deep fried Korean Street Food... Not a positive experience. An unhealthy option. Much better to make my own food as I know exactly what is in it. That's it - a final weekend. Sunday and Monday - calm before departure. I'll need to get up early on Tuesday to collect a couple of items I have forgotten: waterproof trousers and microtowel. But that's OK. Better to leave before merry legs appears. Yesterday I repotted all 18 of the tomato seedlings into larger containers and, once mum's Airbnb guest has departed, I will bring them back inside and on the window sill in my bedroom. Slept on the floor for a little while, but I just couldn't get comfortable eventually, especially with the Korean Street Food rumbling around my bowels ungraciously, so I slept the remainder of the night on the Sofa, more comfortable but too short. Today I am going to spend most of the day doing stuff related to the allotment. I need to move some stuff up to it - broccoli and peas - I hope someo...

So begins another day. The bath is run. Ready for me to slip in and freshen up after the last few days of sweating and smelling. Lola and I walked to Boston Spa and back, around 11 miles, in glorious sunshine. By the climax she was screaming for a little sustenance so I gave her a little rice, chicken and stock around 1pm prior to her normal feed/dinner time at 3. After that I returned on a quiet X98 to the flat to change and head for a few halves in Leeds. 7 halves between 4 and 8 and one bottle of Kirkstall Dissolution. Read plenty of the Consolations of Philosophy  prior to a Shwarma and then back to place the washed clothing on the rack and bed around 8:15pm. No hangover, but slightly wobbly stomach from spicy meaty. First meat for a few weeks. At lunch mum had left me a Chicken leg to go with the rice so I broke the meat fast yesterday. Glenn is coming at 7:30 to help me move the seedlings back to 42: they're looking very healthy... I just hope that the lift is operating...

Good morning: it's Friday. It's been a busy week, so far, and today, although slightly different, will be too. No Archie to take for a walk(or to take for a sniff/lick) as David, his owner, is back from the meeting he has been at so there are two of them in that busy busy household: I couldn't ever live their kind of chaos. I don't know when they have time to breath? So it's just Lola and I until Tuesday, when I set sail for France, to go and enjoy each other's company. She's been super at adjusting - she's taken her foot off the accelerator while Archie slowly meanders through an hour of sniff, lick and unrinate - how different, considering they are the same age, they are. Luckily they David and Co don't need me at all in the summer - which means I only have Ruby to cater for, as I have already told Dan Jones I can't look after his unruly duo. Tomorrow Glenn is helping me to bring the tomato seedlings back from 69 to 42 to repot and leave for mu...

Trying to slow down my approach to Wetherby, or anything, is difficult: I am always hyper tense. But I've done many things this morning before I bathe, clothe and depart for the 8am X99 to a morning of dogs, an afternoon of cleaning number 42, a late afternoon of dogs and a quiet night at 42; better go turn off the tap? I'd never been one to check the time, at all, but now I tend to plan things around the divisions of the day; a logical step towards sanity? The wash is 15 minutes away from completion and I'd like to be out of the flat around 7:15 prior to the walk down Albion Street to Boar Lane to pick up the bus as it begins its journey north east to Wetherby.

Just after 7am. Spoke to Shiney - Alcohol Counsellor - about being unable to come up with a Goal. What I supposed she meant as a Life Goal - giving meaning to my existence - she actually meant just for the next 2 weeks between sessions. So banal and trivial. I'm not bothered about the small picture I am concerned with the totality: unless i don't have another Existential Crisis. I've told myself that my 50th year will be a year of change or it will be my last. There is nothing beyond the 2nd February 2023 for me if this year is the same, personally, warts and all, than the previous 10 years since I descended into this pitiful state. Isn't it pointless seeing a person who is only concerned for my next two weeks when I am concerned about the next two decades? 

My problems have been solved because I have no problems. A loving father welcomes his wayward son with open arms the moment the son decides to return to him. The Prodigal son... It's early. Too early really to go to catch the X98 at 6:30am? Nah it's fine. The sun has risen so on with the day. Frustratingly I have Archie as  well as Lola this week, until Thursday, as his owners are in the office and can't walk him. Archie has a problem with the base of his spine and I can't let him go gallivanting. Lola doesn't gallivant so that's easy.

No alcohol in my bloodstream. I had the insect itch last night - which might've been a consequence of working in mud most of the day... A quick flannel wash sent me to sleep surrounded by the pulsating of the heating, always on to keep mother warm next to the radiator, and the voices, music and general electrical energy pouring out of her TV screen from dawn until late. The end of my life will not be so final... Donc translates into 'so' from the French, an 'um' word, one which is like a pause, ('actually' being a current expression said too often). The German language has one would which is said pointlessly too, but I forgot it currently - it's just on the tip of my tongue (anyway)!