Saturday 10th April 2021

Like every day last week, but without work.

It is cold for the time of year, cold enough for frosts at night, and on Saturday there was steady rain as well, making it too unpleasant for walking, or so Jools told me.

I could not go out, and instead spent 90% of the day with my foot elevated, whilst my top half either watched or listened to football, or once that had ended, watch a documentary on the Cistine Chapel.

As you do.

Each day the swelling get less, and the skin on my foot is less red and wrinkled that the fluid that stretched it has gone. But it still hurts, and I am worried about doing too muh to take me back to square one. As it is, byt the end of the day there is some swelling and the pain is bad enough so that I yearn for bed and laying down, knowing that when I get up the pain will be less.

To darken my mood further, it seems that "offical mourning" means no jovial chat by DJs between records, and the records they do play are quiet and gentle. Dance and uptempo music is banned for the day.

But sport is allowed. The Grand National takes place, and the riders can wear black armbands if they want, football also takes place, with two minutes silence before every game. But judging by the games I watched, players did not moderate their language as a mark of respect.

So, during the morning I make tomato sauce and add defrosted chickens for the leftover taco shells and some wholemeal tortillas. I cook the mix up, dark angry red it was, caused by the half ti of chipotles I had tipped in as they had been in the fridge for two weeks. That made the finished mix very spicy indeed, needing an extra spoon of sour cream to balance it out.

After lunch there is football. Lots of football.

I watch the early game, Swansea win 3-0 which meant that Norwich could not be certain of promotion that day. THeis was underlined when Brentford won at Preston by 5-0 in the main tranche of games. But Norwich also won, just 1-0 against Derby. We need just two ppoints to be certain of a battle against relegation next year.

After cheese and crackers for supper, I watch Waldermar's documentatry on the Cistine Chapel, an hour and 45 minutes of renaissance Italy and Papal shenanigans by two related Popes Sixtus IV and Julius II, both born of the della Rovere family, and their family symbol, an oak tree with 12 acorns is everywhere in the chapel.

And that was that.

Some reading in bed, then trying to get comforrtable laying between the snoring Scullya nd the wall, while trying to find a pain-free position for my toe and shoulder.

Grim.