Well, I made it there and back in one piece. We had a lovely lunch, finishing off with cherry pie and cream, then had a natter. I came home and nodded off in front of Flog It, and now it's Strictly, but I can't stand Bruce. So I thought I'd come into the kitchen and blog a bit. Going out was exhausting, but I enjoyed myself. I don't know how long it will take to get my energy back, but it's certainly missing at the moment - I wonder if that's because my sleep is so interrupted. Even though I feel OK in the mornings, I still fall asleep for short periods during the day, so I think I must be tired.
Now I'm on the mend, I find it hard to remember how I felt even a week ago. I'm not ready to read back here, as I'm still vulnerable, but I will when I feel better. It must be Nature's way of protecting me - not to remember - because it would be too painful to be able to think about it when well. I do recall the mineshaft, but not how far down it I was. I remember the absence of feeling as I still have a bit of that, and I remember the pain.
Tomorrow, I'll try and have another shower and will do the washing - I put the rubbish out earlier. But for tonight, it's the X Factor and bed.
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?