Another wakeful night, disturbed by Clare's noisy snoring leaving me unable to recover from mental and physical fatigue, feeling stressed out. If only I had remembered to pack my ear plugs. As a precaution against overdosing on aspirin, I cut the pill in half and dissolved one half in water. It took over an hour to do this and it tasted disgusting.
I made the effort to walk to St Mary's for the Ascension Day Eucharist, and arrived an hour early. I didn't check the time before leaving, and didn't want to be late. I intended to go to the pharmacy and ask them to check the aspirin dosage prescribed, but went to the church to confirm the service time. Several women were there preparing flower arrangements for a wedding, but they didn't know anything about the service time. At half past eleven, Vicar Fr Steve arrived, and the Verger lit the candles and prepared the altar, then there were a dozen at noon celebrating the end of Easter-tide together. I enjoyed waiting, quietly watching the 'liturgy before the liturgy' unfold' letting the stress drain away. I had a brief chat with Fr Steve after the service. I was surprised he recognised me from our previous holiday visit nearly two years ago.
The pharmacy was closed for lunch when I got there, so I returned to Croft Court and had sardines and rye bread for lunch. Then, back to the pharmacy to inquire about the aspirin dosage. Apparently there was no mistake, but I still can't work out why the previously prescribed ones were more readily water soluble and didn't taste so unpleasant. Clare and Ann had lunch in town. I slept for a much needed extra hour until Clare and Ann arrived.
I went out for a walk to clear my head with fresh air after and drive away the tiredness. Up the hill behind Croft Court there's a long car park which serves holidaymakers and visitors to the Cottage Hospital along one side of the site. Described as a nurse-led walk-in treatment centre, it operates from ten until five on weekdays, dealing with minor injuries and illnesses without a scheduled appointment. It's staffed by Emergency Nurse Practitioners, therapists and GPs in one of fifty centres referred to as Community Hospitals in Wales - a new medical enterprise which has developed in the past decade.
When I returned, Ann and Clare had cooked sausages and baked spuds for supper, followed by stewed apricots, the taste of these reminded me of being in Ibiza during covid lockdown, watching apricot trees blossom and a month later, buying and stewing them for pudding. After supper, Clare and I rearranged the lounge furniture to set up a separate bed I could sleep in without disturbance, hoping to be able to shake off the fatigue that's plaguing me at the moment. Ann and I chatted about ways of recovering from trauma until it was time for sleep.
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