All good things come to an end - afternoon outing abandoned
Easter Monday was a washout in more ways that one. Only one pitstop. Mouth returned to normal. Got to the local supermarket for a paper and a few goodies. Then those calls of nature started that are best not to ignore. By mid-afternoon after the third trip to empty bowel and bladder, I thought that must be it. Patricia and I planned to go to evensong at St Pauls's Cathedral via a local branch of Blacks to look for a new weatherproof coat for me. Ha, ha, I'd barely gone a couple of hundred yards when I just had to stop and go home. With any element of uncertainty these days, I have resorted to wearing a continence pad, and carry a large wad of tissues just in case. You just can't trust that irresponsible alimentary tract, or the providers of public conveniences. I managed to get home just in time. But the new coat will just have to wait. As for evensong I consoled myself with BBC Radio 3 which broadcast Evensong from Chester Cathedral earlier in the afternoon and was available on BBC Sounds. In the meantime, I have started : The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lack, which I refered to in yesterday's blog. A dark tale of medical research, to which millions arguably owe their lives. Back to the tract, I have been worrying about whether breakfast - cereal, stewed fruit, milk and creme frâiche, or lunch - a roast ham sandwich, late afternoon cocktail - bloody Mary, or supper - roast ham, stir fried onions, and peppers with gravy had anything to do with my unsettled bowel. Or maybe it was yesterday? Tonight, it's switch back time. A return to normal contact. The sofa bed has been put away. I am returning to our marital bed. All my clothes and bedding have been washed for the sixth day in succession. Fingers crossed for a better day tomorrow.