15.03.2024 Time is an illusion. With 10% elasthane.

 ~o~

  Friday 15th 48F/9C. Relatively mild and grey with possible light showers. Up at 7.30 after a very disturbed night. I ran out of digits for counting the number of visits to the fire bucket. Possibly 11? I can only blame the water and the beer. Not necessarily in that order. The was some tea involved too. So it is difficult to point the finger at the real culprit. 250ml of tea. 300mls of beer and 500mls of water. Just as the doctor ordered. I know! Let's blame the apple I ate. As a modest pudding to a non-existent dinner.

 8.15. I might risk a walk. Perhaps I should carry a bucket. Just in case. The greenhouse roof is wet but nothing else obviously so.

 9.00 I caused traffic mayhem. When the helpful driver of an otherwise empty bus took my nod to mean I wanted a ride. I thought I was acknowledging his gratitude. When I took to the verge to let him pass unimpeded. 

 As a reward it rained on me as I walked along the lane. To reach my all too familiar turning point. Where, years ago, I once swore to myself. That I would always complete this journey. To the grassed island at the junction to a narrower lane. Or I knew the rot would surely set in and I would continue to increasingly cheat. Until I hardly even left home before turning back.

 The empty stretch of road here offers ample opportunity for internal reflection. With only the overhead skylarks to break the spell that nothing really changes. Meanwhile, a headwind provided added impetus to an inadequate shower. Even though it relented for the return journey. It was still borderline cold on my bare hands.

 The morning was spent in online communication with distant contacts. Invaluable social assets and ones whom provide mutual amusement and interest. Particularly in the complete absence of any more local enthusiasts. Who might have shared/suffered from my lifelong hobbies/obsessions. Though I have never made any attempt at inviting direct social contact at home. 

 The situation at Chez Hovel was never really conducive to such socialising. Hoarding has unspoken and unforeseen disadvantages. As well as the highly visible. I would return to that state in the blink of an eye. If only it were possible to have my dear wife back again. An old fart living alone is a piss poor substitute for a pair. Even for our relative disharmony. Though I 'd have to insist on doing more household chores. If she would let me. I do have the hard-won, proficiency badges now.

12.15 Cold, grey and overcast. The stove has been lit. My having finally relented. The room had sunk to a miserly and miserable 62F/17C. Early lunch I think. The movement will help to warm me up.  

13.00 53F/12C! Lunch over. I swear it is getting even darker. A more comfortable 64F/18C in the room. I had better do some washing up. If I am to continue eating from clean crockery. Though I am not adverse to rinsing a mug used earlier in the day. Not one used for coffee with milk. I do still have some standards!

9.00 49F/9C in March! Dinner was chicken, mushroom, beans and two fried eggs. Washed down with a small beer and more glasses of water. Obviously a glutton for punishment. I have managed to get the room up to 70F/21C. 

  ~o~