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But … I did get somewhat put out by a response to a journal entry for VR I’d sent to those that I know by email, which intimated it had been boring. Now I dislike the boring, those moan of being bored, or being perceived as boring; so I had responded: I’d written back, saying I’d be pleased to hear of the day-to-day of any of my friends.



I have not heard back, from her… Anyway…



Come Monday after housework, everything that could have gone wrong, on the way to my meeting went wrong… But, Dad had got me there in time. Needless to say though, the fella I’d gone there to see was busy, on another medical, like mine.



So, as another member of staff was able to reschedule the appointment for me, who was I to complain? Aye, I didn’t…



Anyway, I got my new glasses from the opticians up the road and boy, my first full day wearing the outside pair was surreal, as I’d found that I was able to see clearer than I had, obviously. Boy when I went to Raby Mere and, I’d seriously liked what I’d seen, quite literally.



Finally it seems, the most skittish Bluetits we’ve ever had nest in the bark box outside the living-room are feeding their chicks… we think, we these two you’d never know.



Swear down, I’ve seen no sign of young-uns, or heard them, but it does seem like they’re feeding…





And as my days progressed and the fine weather allowed, my Dad did the sides of the Beech Hedge at the back. On the Thursday I told him that at 11:15 I’d be ready to give him a hand. I’d been ready as stated and, very quickly I had regretted my decision. I’d expected hard work as I had done my end of the top of the left side, yet my shoulders did have difficulty. Although, truth be told, the effort I put had put in had felt worth it, afterward. I’d continued to felt more than a tad satisfied, as I drank a glass of ginger wine and whiskey, after looking at the hedge and decided the little I’d left to do was quite negligible…



Although truth be told, with a sunny day outside, I’d relished relaxing my lower arms, as I’d typed away, watching episodes of ‘The Walking Dead’, as I’d typed away, prior to my Dad doing the pizza...

I had my formal 'sick' interview on Friday; to see if I'm still eligible.



Our state uses private [American,] assessors Maximus, to decide that my

doctor's wrong and that I should not be able to claim ... the sick.



Gettin on and stayin on the sick is getting much harder and, firms like Maximus do not help: in fact, they’re so bad, they’re banned in at least three states in America.



I could write a myriad of stories as to how bad it’s getting: but... suffice to say, Friday was a fuck-up.



I got less than halfway through the interview when I found out that the assessing ‘medical practitioner’, a nurse, could not see me, as I’d spoken of two things already that indicated a doctor had to see me, ‘suicide’ and ‘spinal issues.’



Like “quell-surprise”, what did they expect?



I have to try and calm down, as forms of stress-inducers, the dole are second-to-none.



I’m gonna ask my doctor to write a piece on me, about the things bout me that had so concerned them.



Heck, the hardest thing was finding the right words, for the rough letter for her... as I’m fairly sure I know what’s needed.



Yet, saying that... hours later, I had much of it roughed out. BUT, I'm quite pleased with what I had created, Saturday night dash Sunday Morning. Then later, much later I went a walk for milk, then intending on going to The Mere…. I finished my letter started the previous night instead, while watching the blackest comedy on Teevee, ‘HAPPYish’…



And, a letter arrived, just as I had decided that ‘Life’ was going tolerably well. It had been from the DWP, with the time and date of my next interview. It had been the time that had got to me, 9:00 a.m. the very time I’d said not to give me, as my body is not generally too hot, at the time of the morning.



So, I’d phoned Simon, in desperation.



We had talked awhile and, as a consequence of it, I ended up with an appointment to see Simon, to see what we could do. It hadn’t been much; but it had led to me being a lot less emotional than I had been when I’d first made the call.



Well, that brings me to Saturday and the Llama’s… “Yes, I kid you not.”



I’d left the house to go to the chemist, on a Sunny Saturday morning and, made my way to the end of our road, where I’d turned right. That had been when I’d looked over the road and noticed the young man walking toward the field, on his right.

As the young man passed the big white house, I sought words to describe the name of the animals; he walked as if they were two Shetland ponies, which I’ve also seen.



Seconds more passed and, finally I’d found the noun I’d been looking for, Llama. The young fellow had been walking two Llama’s on leads. And, so the day carried on in general fashion; until I went to the Mere to sit where I do and, began to take photo’s of the fish that had come to say ‘hello’.



A couple of the photo’s turned out well.



Anyway, I’d got home in time to see to the meal, toasted cheese; already looking forward to Karl’s visit. Then when he’d arrived in his car, it had been to take me to his where we’d chatted as we have previously, only this time he’d been good enough to pick me up and, take me home.



Saturday night I had slept better than I had, for ages…

Still waiting with trepidation on the 'medical', with people who tick boxes, to make a 'qualified' decison on my doctor's decison... and I spent the damned weekend with a portion of a tooth missing... which tore at my cheek and trust it to happen on the Friday... possibly at Food Testing.



Next... the dentist...