I felt a bit normal today.
Swaying a bit but normal in other respects.
I switched on the tv and saw the snooker was on, I nearly cried with joy. An old pal.
Naturally I clung to it.
And as I prepared the sauce for my chicken legs John Virgo's gentle tones soothed.

Yesterday I spent some time with Rob's son, Mark. And as we watched some rubbish tv I held him in my arms stroking his forehead. I like being Auntie Angela. Rob and I also visited his ma and pa. We discussed life over biscuits and tea and how nothing no more will worry me. Too much.
Being hours from death kind of wakes you up.

I'm going out tomorrow with Jeannie (Mark's mum) and I promised her I won't fall over. I know my way to the charity shop in Manstead Gardens with my eyes shut.....


Now I must slowly glide into the front room where a half decorated Christmas tree leans against the wall. Can't find the balls but with its bits of tinsel it looks BEAUTIFUL to me.

Two weeks ago today the Strokestruck.
But here I am waiting to watxh the news at six.
My brain, although working, is on a go-slow. Taking a foot off of the pavement and into the road takes a minute or two. Luckily I always have someone with me. Utterly out of the question is the idea of moi going it alone. For a while anyway. But in the the meantime I eat amd sleep and oh my goodness do i sleep.
I had a session with Ailsa my physion today and love her as I do I could have throttled her as she made me walk up and down my hall looing tot he right, and to the left then stepping oven a small footstall. I failde miserqably. I walked ok....but when my brain needs to make TWO movements simultaneously I bugger it up. Typing not a problem. But don't ask me to drink tea too. Or even acknowledge that you are in the room.
It'll take a while Ailsa told me, to get back to perfect normality.But return I will....

My tatstes have changed.
Sweet stuff is a no=no, meat is on the back burner so to speak, I've been living on vegetables and fish fingers.
I long to sink my teeth into a chicken curry.
I'm attemptoin a little cooking this weekend, keep ypu posted on events.

Now I must focus on politics.. Thank goodness my Brain Attack didn't kill all my interests.
I thihnk Corbyn is a gonner.

On Friday the 13th I had a Stroke. Hospitalized for five days. Now recovering at home. Not allowed to drive or go out alone. Can't concentrate for long. Activity like brushing my teeth requires slepp afterwards. General mood is low. Shock factor off the scale. Time its taken to write this? forever.
Support is great. Rob taken time off work. Team of medics visiting every day. Prognosis? High risk of another one. My feelings are a sick mix of disbelief, despair and fear. but mingled inbetween theses is one of my finer traits..optimism
I will change my diet, my attitude towrds everythinjg.
John is keeping in the shadows.

And so as Igaze silently into the screen catching sight of typo errors I really don't give a shit.

And with that comes a certain relief =, freedom.
Nomore shopping lists, worrying about weight or whether God exists, aI am at one with the uhniverse .

Christmas in around the corner.
And as my situation has changed I'll be making Christmas presents this year instead of buying them ready made.
Baked goods of course.
Cakes and breads mostly.
I won't be always up to my eyes in flour though I have a needlwork project on the go. And I'm beginning to wonder what I've taken on. Mainly because I can't sew.
But that hasn't stopped me before.
My attitude to needlework is as long as it look nice it won't matter if its's made in an jaw droppingly amateurish sort of way. It's the thought and love that goes into it that counts.
In a mad moment I decided to make a cross stitch Unicorn.
If I ever finish it I will hand it to Rob's mum, Viola for Christmas. She loves Unicorns and has a particulary sweet one on her windowsill. Rampant, white and a wee bit dusty. My effort will be framed
I very much doubt there'll be other sewing gifts ,I'm sensible enough to know where my talent lies.

Can England carry on winning?

Lithuania shouldn't be a problem.


My reading has been eclectic. Elizabeth Goudge, Mary Stewart, Agatha Christie and poetry anthologies.....
And inspiration comes from others and nightmares.


I saw London in crystal
spears of it jagging into a mauve sky from the the dome of St Pauls
and floating on the river
rafts
sharp
 singing loud with visible notes exploding
and the hundreds of broken quavers making music
still

But back to sport...
I haven't missed a game, and tonight after tea I'll continue the love affair.

Spent Sunday afternoon at Vi's house. Rob being the dutiful son helped his dad with the family's miniature railway. Something to do with signals or something.
While they did that, I helped with lunch.
And very good it was too.
A traditional roast chicken with oodles of carrots and peas and little sausages and crisp puffed Yorkies and on a big white plate some smashing roasted potatoes. Gravy to drool over.
'Afters' was an impossible choice between a plump chocolate mousse cake or a jewel-like fruit salad.
I chose both.
Vi cooks very well.

I didn't know Mozart had a sister. Did you?