My wretched power shower packed up a couple of days ago, but good old Derek, our plumber, will have it back in action again in a day or two. The point being that with my disability I really rely on this rather than the bath.
Incidentally, I tried a bath a couple of weeks ago, during the very hot spell ( our summer!), while Alice was in London. It was a hot day and I was sweaty and thought it might be rather fun. Unfortunately I found I could not get out, despite struggling for up to an hour. I managed to swing my legs over the side but all the twisting and turning was without avail, I was simply too weak to lever myself out I even let the water out in case I landed on my face and drowned.
I did panic a little as Alice was in London until late afternoon and this was lunch time. I had visions of her arriving home and finding me sitting there, blue with cold, probably hypothermic, and subsequently being ticked off like a small child. Fortunately I had taken the mobile telephone up with me and managed to reach it by the side of the basin. I dialled the directory enquiries for my neighbourâ€™s telephone number and found her in. Even more fortunately her son was with her and he popped over and hauled me out. I never told Alice. She would kill me if she knew but as she never reads this blog she may never know, leastwise, until I am beyond being ticked off.
Reverting to the shower, I should perhaps mention that the only reason I can continue to wash myself is by using a 3 foot long handled sponge. A cheap and useful device which I can recommend for anyone in my position.
Not a great deal has happened since my assessment on 2 July. Although I still spend eight or nine hours a day in the office most of it seems to be on the computer, answering or sending e-mails; dealing with correspondence; updating my blog; editing my autobiographical notes etc. (this week with one ear to the radio listening to the first of the Ashes Test matches, in Cardiff).
Talking of cricket I do hope you bloggers have read my latest anecdote, The Cricket Match. There always seems to be a backlog of things to do.
I did go to London on the 3rd. to lunch with my stockbroker; walked round the golf club on the following Monday (with the geriatric crowd – Tuesday becomes Monday sometimes when there is a match which interferes with the normal arrangements); I attended the Arbitration Club in London on Tuesday and tonight we are going to the first of two dinners, very kindly being given in my honour, ostensibly for services to arbitration. So life is not entirely dull.