People keep telling me how well I look – as in how much better I look than say a year ago. That’s obviously a good thing, tho I’d say that appearances may be deceptive ?! Maybe it’s all the gym stuff I do.

After a week where I met with Charlie P, my daughter Lily, Marky P ( happy birthday ),  Frank C, saw Cherie,  saw Lily receiving her Biology prize in the school prizegiving, saw the Lions make history ( well almost )   went to an event in the Science Museum all about robots ( fascinating – tho I hear the next big advance is a female looking robot that can deliver the best ‘ head’ ever …. ) and drove to Jo Wright’s pad for a party with Vicky, I feel nonetheless very flat indeed.

I’ve certainly had less eventful weeks and felt much better than I do…

I think I need more sleep ?

Thanks to Eve for the suggestions she proposed.

As my carer moves ever slower, she explains that it’s due to the warm weather.

As she has been living in Africa all of her life, hasn’t she become previously accustomed to that?

Just a thought…

Oh, as well as dabbling in online heterosexual  dating, it would seem that I have other options…

Whilst minding my own business down at the river yesterday, a very friendly gent approached me and said Hi.

Thinking i must know him, I responded cheerfully and politely.

When he asked my name I realised that I didn’t know him… we had a chat and he told me that I had the same name as his Ex.

Well I never, I said… and there was more passing of the time, where he mentioned that he’d just been sunbathing in his underpants.

Saying that I really ought go, he said how nice it had been talking to me, and ‘ you’re a very good looking man, Russ’

I thanked him politely , and said that he wasn’t too bad himself… before doing a wheelspin in my motorised chair and riding off at high speed.

I fear that that may have really done it for him…

I had a few drinks the other night. After drinking them, I felt very cheerful! ✅

However… the day after, I felt very depressed ?

Proof then… NOT a good thing for me.

Unless of course it’s just sleeping that depresses me?

Next I’ll try drinking a lot and then not sleeping at all. …

Last night, Pia and I went to Shepherds Bush and saw the truly incredible Macy Gray, at the O2 Academy.

After the gig, we very sensibly got the bus back, rather than taking the highspeedwheelchairinthebuslane option.

People have often wondered, and asked me directly, what my relationship with Pia exactly is? Last night it seemed to dawn on me properly, and in full.

When I’m with her, and because of the way she is with me ( always ) I don’t feel like I’m disabled and paralysed. Obviously it’s always there, that awareness, but Pia somehow makes it alright.

My ongoing challenges with getting a carer that fits  continues. This one, who is a very nice girl from Kenya, leaves next week, though had forgotten to tell me. – you see the problem ( right there ). Communication is something that is largely beyond my carers to date, despite them all having phones. Paper, pens and pencils are also readily available in my flat.

They even have mouths, that words sometimes come out of, but that’s not  something that I can rely on as a method of communication, I have found.

So i have a gap, from the 11th until the 18th, that approaches, without a gap filling solution as yet.

Bletchley Park… now there’s a place to visit. Obviously now famous, as opposed to top secret ( as it was for years ) for the code breaking activities that went on there. It’s all wheelchair friendly ( well, in the main ) and the staff are very helpful.

My date was subjected to my driving, which is actually fairly enjoyable for me now, after the very difficult process of actually getting me into the bloody car,  and the sun shone all day long. As well as the house itself, and the many outbuildings, the park and lake are beautiful

Thank you to my date for her tolerance etc. The place needs another visit ( or 2 ) as there is so much there to take in at once. As I’m not ten percent as clever as the people that will have worked there, I’ll need to go again to give my brain the opportunity to absorb some more, by going again…

So my great buddy Rob, after having the shits for 10 days, finally conceded that enough was enough, and pulled out of his race, a mere 3,100 miles in. The remaining 2000 miles, on a bike in the wilderness, were a risk not worth taking, he rationalised.

Good call Robbo. You have to know when to stop. And you did.