I was so convinced that yesterday was Wednesday that it feels like I've leapt forward a day, or lost one somewhere. When you're working, that feeling is a bonus; when your time is your own, you wonder where the time has gone.
I'm nervous about the Memory Clinic appointment on Monday, and I'm glad to be able to meet a fellow writer and cyclist beforehand (Rob Penn, writing a book on the Celtic Trail and riding various sections thereof), as it will give me something else on which to focus.
I'm also apprehensive about the meeting on Tuesday with the Investigation team at work. I'm not really nervous about the actual meeting - my nervousness is that the investigation won't go anywhere - it really does rely on Mike Kelly being the twat he is and saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, which he is eminently capable of doing, though I will not underestimate his sliminess and craftiness.
I slept for a very long time last night - I went to bed around 7pm, fell asleep about 8, and didn't get up till around 9:30 this morning. I did wake up around midnight, but not for long.
Tomorrow I will have a day devoted to family things - perhaps instigate some baking of biscuits so they can use their new pastry cutters.
Sunday will be a day of church and rest.
Then, let the battles commence, at least that's what it feels like from here.
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