I'm eating a poppadum from my earlier curry - I just love them. I tried making them once but couldn't get them thin enough - my naan bread was good, though. I went through a stage of making curries and tandooris, which was great fun; I used to make my own curry powder out of individual spices. However, it's not so much fun cooking for one, so I don't do it often.
The Black Dog is still around but not in the room - before, he was right up against me. Now I can look at him without too much fear as I think I'm more in control than he is. Control - or lack of it - is a big part of depression; especially for someone like me who is usually very much in control. Losing it means that I just fly apart, which adds to the sense of hopelessness. Writing this blog has kept me going - it gets the poison out and away somewhere other than inside me. Thank you to everyone that reads it; I do appreciate it.
The poppadum has, inevitably, made me thirsty, so I've got an orange juice in front of me. I dread to think how much salt is in a take away, or how many calories for that matter. Had to be done though.
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?