King prawn and green bean orzotto

Today I was meant to be heading into town for an appointment at the Job Centre, followed by a trip to a mobility store to try out some mobility scooters. I fell asleep last night mentally listing all the things I could do and places I could go once I have one (to the supermarket when I realise I forgot to order eggs¹, down to Freshwater Bay for ice cream and a quick cry (it’s where we spread my dad’s and sister’s ashes), down the old railway line to watch birds, even to the pub (albeit for a non-alcoholic drink, thanks to the meds I’m taking)).

Then I was woken at 8am, not by mum for once, but by someone from the Job Centrecalling to tell me that the information I had been given by one of her colleagues, correcting some incorrect information previously given, was itself incorrect. I decided that, as I don’t really need benefits now thanks to the inheritance from my grandmother, I couldn’t be arsed with all the faffing around and told them to close my claim.

Appointment thus cancelled, I was able to go into the village to get my hair cut. As the hairdresser snipped away at my hair, she was carrying on a conversation with another customer and a member of staff from a neighbouring business about how they were all related to a fourth person. (Niece, cousin, and fourth cousin, I think was the eventual conclusion.)

“Welcome to village life,” she murmured to me.

A more positive facet of village life is that, when I failed to be at the bus stop in time to catch the last community bus back home, the driver parked her bus and came to find me inside the hairdresser’s. The hairdresser did a few final snips, I paid the bill, then ran (at least crutched quickly) back to where the bus was waiting in the car park.

I will blame that last rush for the fact my hair is a bit tufty round the edges in places, and is overall rather longer and more feminine than I really wanted. Ah well, it’s still better than it was, and hair will always grow out so I can try again. By which time I will hopefully have a scooter and not have to rush to catch the bus.

Dinner was a lemony king prawn orzotto, a favourite of mine that mum fortunately also likes. The lemon is dried and then cooked so doesn’t generally cause an allergic reaction the way the fresh stuff does, although I’ve got a sore throat anyway after my ill-advised attempt to inhale my pasta failed.

Tomorrow one of mum’s friends is coming to visit. Mum has said repeatedly that she doesn’t want to go out for a walk, which means she’ll be out of the door the moment her friend arrives.

I, however, will be staying right here, which is on my bed, trying to ignore the nerves in my feet firing off “help, we’re on fire and being electrocuted and wrapped in prickly plastic” messages, which just mean I’m tired.

See you tomorrow, everyone.

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1. To name one totally random example which is not at all based on my current reality. ↩︎