I had the Red Bull equivalent - KX from Tesco's - it often has a paradoxical effect on me and sends me to sleep. I've written a letter and a long email to friends, so I've not been idle. Both of them know I'm ill, but my friend in Scotland doesn't have a computer, so I send her a letter from time to time, quoting bits of the blog that I think she might like. Thank goodness for copy and paste. Thank goodness for the internet, actually - knowing someone is reading this gives me a connection to the world which I wouldn't have otherwise.
I'm sitting hunched over the laptop - my typing posture is terrible. I have physio for my arthritis and she told me I should type sitting upright, but I find that really hard as I can't touch type so I have to look at the keys. Hey ho - what's yet another ache? That sounded a bit martyred - it wasn't meant to be. My Father was sometimes called an ECM - Early Christian Martyr - because of the pained way in which he would do the washing up - "Don't worry darling, I can manage; it'll only take me an hour". Luckily, he'd laugh at himself, so we didn't hurt his feelings. He died in 1994 and Mum in1998 - I still miss them both - there's no one to turn to quite like parents. I believe the fundamental question in life is : "Is everything going to be alright, Mummy?" It gets tense when Mum's no longer there to comfort you.
Mood check - crapola. Low again. Sunken. What a difference a few hours make. Now is the witching time, when most of Europe is asleep and dreaming. Good evening America. I wanted to play some music tonight, but my soul is too sensitive to noise at the moment; even eating a biscuit makes me long for silence. I'm deaf in my right ear (what?) so I can hear what I eat in my head, which is disconcerting - biscuits are particularly bad. I'm going to have to start a diet when this is all over, preferably one that contains vegetables. When my sister and I were young, my Mother read a book about diet and healthy living, which was far ahead of its time. Consequently, we ate very healthy food, and Dinah and I also had to drink fortified milk - full of ground up vitamins and minerals. It was good for us, but we often gave it to the cat.
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?