the usual urgings

The rain pours down on my poor red armchair, and my health has certainly improved but there are sniffles aplenty and this weather doesn’t help. Tomorrow the move to Edwardstown, plenty of tidying up not to do beforehand. There’s a meeting nearby tonight, suddenly problematic with all this rain. With the car tomorrow and with the money situation slowly improving, I will need to be getting out more regularly, making more of a life for myself. Fitness too with a good bike, sure a mountain bike, heavy of metal and heavy of friction, but with such minutely calibrated gears, probably nothing in today’s world but for me a joy to ride. Need a lock. The gym’s the thing, before the year ends, when the Centrelink calculations are done and dusted. Big hope is for a new lad who will be more permanent and easy enough. We have no choice, Nat too complains of the lack of choice in carers but there’s not a lot of choice out there. He’s happy enough with his proposed new carer, who I think will be available from the 28th or so, leaving me briefly in the lurch but I’ll hear more from Esther on that. Anglicare are angling to make the reviews for me and Nat fortnightly as they have more pressing cases to attend to. That’ll probably work out fine as long as I show enough backbone to keep his play-station viewing in check and keep his personal care and housecleaning on target. He knows about Casey Lifeskills, perhaps that should be pushed. When I’m finished here I’ll either go for a bike ride or I’ll try for some abs exercises with my kit, or at the very least some dumb-bell stuff. Strike while I’m in the mood, which is rare enough. Don’t here from John S much lately on going out, he’s given up on me, which in some ways is good for I don’t want to go out to the Radisson or to those nostalgic Royal Oak nights. A visiting lecture, a play, a film, these are more promising. Visited adultfuckfinder the other day because I’ve received a few emails, god it’s depressing, attractive women making demands even on the amount of semen they expect their would-be partners to eject during intercourse, not much room for imagination in their lives it would seem. My fault for even looking at the details of these twenty-something chicks for whom someone of my age is nothing but a walking corpse, sexually speaking. Slightly better than looking at porn sites, okay now and then but on a regular basis a loser’s game. So, to cultivate my garden, time to trim away the dead bits of the transplanted miniature roses, and the lettuces are all getting a bit tough, but then nobody could eat that much salad in a season. Another mow required, and the fig tree planted, a scary proposition, and a considerable degree of planning needed, or maybe just hands on going for it. Thinking of espaliering quinces, another scary proposition.