Supposed to be at the swimming pool

Yum yum. Munch munch. Another jaffa cake bar enjoyed. Another lovely
cup of tea.
I am supposed to be swimming. I have not been swimming since before
Christmas. Swimming is the only exercise I do, if you can call it so.
The way I do it is kind of more like relaxation than sport. Gently up
and down. Slowly. Chin in the water. Face never getting wet. I cannot
face walking to the pool. The pool is quite a long walk and it is
pissing down with rain. Pissing down. All afternoon.

I have not submitted any work to abctales for a long time. I seem to
have less time for abctales these days. I used to have a lot when I sat
in an office from 9-5 with not a lot of work on and boring hours
stretching ahead of me. These days when I go to work I actually have to
work for a change. Also when I'm not working I am not chained to a
desk. My new pc hours could be an hour or two a day, rather than eight.
I feel better for it. Not staring at the screen all the time. Not
having to pretend to be working.

I have always found something quite romantic about sitting inside the
house when the rain beats down outside. It is even better when you are
lying in bed in the dark and can only hear it beating. That's really
special.

Pay day today. Pretty disappointing, but then I didn't do many hours in
January. I was busy going to the hospital to have my operation, and
then it took ages to get over the anaesthetic. I thought I'd never feel
right in the head again. "You?" " Right in the head?" "You never were",
I hear you whisper.

Rug is out at the office earning loads of money as per usual. I am at
home earning sod all as per usual. Tonight is Friday night so we will
have take-away curry and a few beers, and then just when I'm getting
sleepy R will go off to the pub to meet D. Next week he won't go to see
D because from Saturday they are away skiing together for a week and
they will run out of conversation during the week if they also meet on
the Friday night. That's what R says anyway.

In less than two months I will be a thirty-three year old auntie.
That's exciting. The auntie bit more than the thirty-three bit, but
then life does seem to be getting better as I get older. S is convinced
it will be a boy. I don't mind. As long as it's healthy and so is
J.

Rain rain rain rain rain.

Rain reminds me of the days I lived in Swansea. I ruined my favourite
umbrella there. There was always rain and wind at the same time. My
favourite umbrella was an eighteenth birthday present from my sister.
It had a long wooden handle and was pink. It was a strong brolly but
one day proved not as strong as the Welsh wind. I was sad about that. I
still am if the truth were told.