I may have mentioned, more than once, my sensitivity to noise. Well, outside my kitchen window, two men are mechanically digging a hole to install my water meter and the noise is unbelievable. I made them tea first thing but they didn't mention the noise. It's agony and looks like going on for a while. There's a strong smell of petrol as well. These things are sent to try us, but I wish they hadn't been sent to me. It's a nightmare of sound.
Erle might come for a coffee after Liz has been. I can cope with people like Erle and LIz, Kate and Merrick, Jacqui and Jenny, because I don't have to wear The Face. I'm relieved that no others have called to see me - it would be just too much. Many people have offered but I've said no. I wouldn't have done that a few years ago, and would have suffered, but I can now. Writing the blog means that people can read about it and don't ask me awkward questions. Hundreds of people have read it which is a bit alarming, but I hope they've got something out of it.
The washing looms over me like a sword. I shall do it later, after I've had a shower, perhaps. I have no idea why these things are so difficult to achieve - they rise like mountains in front of me and frighten me.
I'm off to have a nap.
I spent 16 years in the RAF defending the Free World , then got bunged out unceremoniously for being bipolar. I and was subsequently diagnosed with PTSD. Funny old world, isn't it?