335.
Boy am I tired. I don't know why it should be the case, but lately I have been waking up at around 5am (must be the early dawns we are starting to get!). I usually get up to let Mizzie out, because as soon as she knows that someone has stirred, she wastes no time in making sure that they don't get any peace. Since I'm downstairs anyway - having let Mizzie out to do whatever cats do at 5am - I make myself a cup of coffee, then go back to bed with a book. The book is chosen carefully because it is better than any sleeping tablets. I won't say who the book is by, because the author is a friend of mine, and he even thanked me in his acknowledgements. Anyway, one page of that is sure to send you back to the land of nod. Nevetheless, come 10pm, I start to flag and my eyelids begin to get heavy. I'm not sure if it is the medication that I am on that is causing this - although I suspect that it may be, since I have been advised that one of the side affects of this medication is drowsyness and an inability to concentrate (at least that's what I tell Linda when she wants me to do something!). I got a phone call from the Benefits Agency this morning - this is my fist ever dealing with the government department that dishes out money to ill people. The woman asked me if I had details of my mortgage - so I rummaged around my extremely untidy desk until I found a letter from the bank containing all the details. She never asked me for any information from this letter at all. She then asked my if I had the sick line from the doctor. I told her that I had somewhere - so I rummaged some more until I eventually found it. Once more, she didn't want any information from the line. Anyway, the upshot is that I have to go down to the office next week with my doctor's line and two forms of identification. Apparently I will have to undergo tests at the DWP offices just to make sure that I am unable to work. How they intend to assess me, I don't know, because it is not as if I am about to be doing anything physically strenuous, and the drugs ensure that my mental abilities are diminished by my almost constant wish to sleep. The upshot of all this, however, has nothing at all to do with sore legs, doctors or the Benefits Agency. Rather, the fact that I had to rummage around for important documents (mortgage agreement and sick line) told me that my desk needed cleared and cleaned. After yesterday's exertions, I remained very sore about the leg, but still managed to tidy up. This is what it looks like now - with the blutakbeast photog snapping away at some Cybermen (for those of you who have never seen Dr Who, then you don't know what you're missing). This is a tribute to the BBC for bringing the world's most famous timelord back to our small screens! (I was scared of the cybermen, because the entrance to their spaceship looked like - and probably was - a toilet seat. I used to hold in all my ablutions on a Saturday night when I was a kid!).
