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In lot’s of pain now…

I am feeling the pain of this week. The tiredness from lack of sleep and panic attacks. The stress of how certain ‘agencies’ have treated me.

Painting the gates has been good mentally but now I am feeling the aches, and my ankle hurts more because I’m so tired.

I phoned the police station in Germany. I was doing well until I was asked why my friend needed proof of his pass being stolen. What is ‘home office; in German? I’m not sure what it is in American.

We got past that and I gave a date. Then I gave it as single numbers to be sure. I asked if he had got my drift. He said 2017 in English. I responded that he knew English. Oh yes he said I know English. I was not surprised at all, but said that he had let me search for unusual vocabulary in German without letting me off the hook. I also told him in German that my uncle used to play soccer for Dortmund Barbarossia.

They did not have the information I needed and he gave me the number for the Bulgarian Embassy in Bonn.

I seem to have done a lot today but feel like I’ve accomplished nothing.

I have thanked my paramedics who attended me, and also asked for my thanks to go out to the whole Trust for their dedication during the lockdown. We are now on Stay Alert which means every one piles to the beaches and Quay and buy beer from supermarkets and put a strain on the emergency services.

I thanked the staff of my local hospital, where I have responsibilities, for their dedication and hard work.

I was looking for ear buds today as a neighbour’s daughter lost her headphones. As I looked, I recalled being told I’ve got too much stuff. Well, having seen photos of where they live, there is just as much stuff in their home. I have a lot of my sister’s hair products etc, and I’m not ready to part with them yet. One day I will be, and I’ll have less stuff than in their home. I gave the girl my spare earbuds.

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Leaking pipes and other things…

A photo of half my garden looking toward my gates at the back. One gate painted with the first coat. (Weather proof.) I’ve since started two thirds of the other gate and am waiting for the coolness after 4pm.

There are flats at the back but I overlook the harbour. Forgot to say that this is half my garden. The other half is currently untidy with chairs and watering equipment while I sort other stuff out. There are flowers too, but too much untidiness to put in a photo.

So yesterday morning I noticed a strange colour on the ceiling under my landing. Water leak from heating pipe. Drat drat and complete frustration having reported a leak last year but they only checked under the bath!!!

I am now dreading the removal of my ceiling and the complete upheaval it will cause me.

This morning I started painting the second gate I’m three quarters finished but had to stop when it got hot at 8.45. That took less than an hour so I hope to finish the first coat and start the second coat on the first gate. It is relaxing and therapeutic. I haven’t painted since before my daughter was born. I don’t leave brush marks or roller marks. I do the equivalent of a professional job.

I’m not a perfectionist. I just want a good job. I have a mirror hiding a place from which a thermostat was taken.

My hip and now my ankle are giving me difficulty. I am left footed so always put my left foot on a step or stair. My ankle gives pain and my hip reminds me it doesn’t want to support me. So I keep yelping as I just cannot change to my right.

I am catching up on sleep. Bit by bit. A dear, dear follower with whom I now am in direct touch has said she is worried about me. No one should worry about me. Just pray for me. My daughter and cousin worry about me. They are family. It’s their job. I worry about them.

I think my ankle hurts due to tiredness but it’s the one I hurt on the scaffolding so an old injury and tiredness.

I am now going to do a favour for my neighbour as I speak German.

Oh,oh, forgot to say we did a poetry event last night with zoom. Most people there seemed to be drinking, which is fine, we meet in a room in a pub. One sadly got drunk and embarrassed herself and another who has never been to any poetry event kept strumming her ukele and talking about the content of her fridge. This is disrespectful. We listen to poems.

I was not the only professional poet there. One of the other two was the drunk one.

‘Nough said. They might read this blog post, seems the whole world is interested in my blog lately.