Dwelling on the past? Well, the present is dull.

Written last night before I slept.

I live in the past. Would someone please send me a history book so I know what to expect? Today I almost talked to a fellow I used to know at school, a friend of my brother. I say “talked”, but I mean contacted via Facebook. I say “say”, but I mean “think” or “type”. I didn't because it would be a cumbersome conversation – and not because I'd stop every sentence to redefine terms. It would be awkward and brief and upsetting for us both. Why? Because while he has doubtless done well, I have proved incapable of dealing with the world. That sort of thing gets people down. They can't feel happy for your successes; they have to feel sorry for your failures.

So I didn't do that. What did I do? I took the car to the garage to have a light replaced. Do I hear mechanically-minded readers gasp across the internet? You try replacing the front right sidelight of a Peugeot 206. One needs either a specialised device or the hands of a bodybuilding child, supreme confidence that one won't drop the strip of metal wire which locks the light in place, and some pliers, preferably shaped like the bill of one of those birds that plod along the seashore, jimmying their cock-eyed beaks sideways into shells. Yeah.

So I walked home, dropping in on the health-food shop in Biddulph and picking up some things. I had a salad, dawdled online, did some pressups, had a protein shake . . . after many years, I eventually picked up the ability to notice when I was boring people, and my alarm just pinged. Tomorrow I'll spend less time online, and more reading. I watched Midsomer Murders with the family. It's a little ritual. Although these days Niall wanders off to look at shares and stockmarkets online.

I'm going to go for a run tomorrow. It's hard to drag oneself out of bed for a run in the rain, or at least the cold. Still, I'm keeping to the diet well, and the exercise is all falling into place. I'm not yet recovering fast enough for my tastes, but no doubt that will improve. Friends are coming up Saturday, and we'll go for a walk in a local park. I must take my camera. Come Sunday and I have to drive to Sheffield to check on a friend. I and many others hope he's ok. Fingers crossed. With that cheery thought I shall close my weary eyes.