Well, I'm going back to work tomorrow, despite the fact that I'm only marginally better, if at all. I don't have a lot of choice, in all honesty, because if I didn't go back, I'd need a sick note from a doctor, and that would prove problematic, given that I'm rather in limbo - entirely due to my own inertia, I'll freely admit - as far as the NHS goes at the moment. I'm on leave next week, so I'll only have to stagger through two shifts before I get another week or so off. I did have some tentative plans for my time off, but, as things stand at the moment, I can't see my doing anything much more than I've been doing this week, trying to rest and recuperate at my accommodation. The only thing I absolutely have to do is to move to my new room, before the end of the month. Even though it's only, as I've said, at the end of the corridor, I'm still not exactly looking forward, in the prevailing circumstances, to the 'humping and dumping' - and I haven't even got any furniture to move. At least I can spread it out, over a day, or even longer, if need be, so I'll doubtless manage. All part of the joys of my single life, or something.
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
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