The day started so full of élan and now it is six in the evening. Things started well and then there was a near collapse upon leaving the room to go downstairs to have breakfast.
Turned and closed the door, slipped under the covers of the freshly made bed and fell sound asleep.
At midday got up, and things felt moderately better. Went downstairs, and wanted to leave the house, but saw that the parcel delivery man was just up the road. Walked up to him and asked him if he had my parcel. He did, and he gave it away immediately, he was happy not to have to carry it around the place, Took the parcel back to the house and took it upstairs. It was a very carefully made parcel indeed. It contained a red vacuum cleaner, a second hand purchase. The flexible pipe was wrecked, and the automatic cable winder was dysfunctional. Put the electrical plug into the wall socket and established that the device functioned, producing a reasonable vacuum.
Left the house and went to the Thai place for a bowl of soup. The soup was pleasant and hot.
Then walked on to have a cup of coffee. This was all right, but the smart looking cake that they served with it was a disaster.
Out on the street again, realised that things were going wrong. The ability to move diminished, and sounds became loud and indistinct. It was time to go home again.
At home, lie on the couch, fall asleep.
There is a telephone call.
Chat.
There is another telephone call.
The artist needs some help clearing the last things out of his studio.
Whilst waiting for him, repair the vacuum cleaner with some older parts from one of the same make. Apart from the automatic cable winder it all seems to work now.
Put on a jacket and go out, it is raining and it is cold. But the job is done quickly, and resolve to go on to the pub later, after writing these notes
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