Suits me

Humongous and ongoing gratitude for being able to have baths again. It can be painful getting in and out of my deliciously deep tub but it's something I've loved all my life and the years when they weren't allowed, although I tried not to think about it, I missed their comfort so much. There is almost no physical affection in my life any more so warm water surrounding me is my hug, my cuddle, my pat, my stroke.

Reserved gratitude for knitting a few rows and crocheting a few rounds. The progr,ess on the projects is, I suppose, commensurate with the pain in wrists, digits and elbows...but how come my knees and ankles and aching? Don't remember them being involved in any way at all!

I give thanks for a Ruth Rendell to distract me during a disturbed night and necessary recuperative long lie in. For pancakes for a leisurely brunch. For Jensen (who always seems such a thoroughly nice chap on pole and the HD clarity which even on my primitive and cut price flat screen makes the view from the onboard cameras look like an arcade game. For a dramatic start to with flying car crash at the start (even without rain!) with no one hurt, which is how you want it...followed by a safety car to catch up with my blog. Ideal!

When I moved near the sea again I dreamed of having a boat. Yes, I live in an upstairs flat and have no car but dreams don't have to be sensible...if they were sensible they'd not have to be dreams, would they? I had friends then who liked to play on the water and we thought we could hire something one day, there's all kinds of craft available near by...canoes and kayaks and jet skis, rowing and motor boats. Everyone said I must get a wet suit and I'd just started looking and I got sick. For many very specific reasons a wetsuit wasn't to be. After my operation I bought one in Lidl's. I didn't see how I'd be able to get it on, let alone get anywhere there'd be any point in wearing it and have any energy left to do anything you'd wear it for...and the friends I might have gone with had long gone without me. But it was symbolic: keep following your dreams, even when reality gets up a head of speed in the opposite direction. Your dreams are your best you...or it's best for you if they are anyhow!

Well yesterday I somehow got the wetsuit on. Massive effort as it grips me tighter than I can grip it. And yes, I was right, I needed a long sit down afterwards to recover. And no I don't think it's worth cramming it into my suitcase for all the aforementioned reasons but I took a picture because I'm perversely proud of being a middle aged woman with afro hair, a stoma and a wetsuit. Especially one who's supposed to be dead. I mean, it's a pretty exclusive club...They couldn't bury me and they are NOT going to bury my dreams.

Right, I'm off to buy a wedding dress...