Got home, Julia handed me a letter. It was a summons to jury duty. There are a few things to be ironed out, but I’m looking forward to it as a break from the boredom of my normal life. I’d happily do it every year.
Unfortunately it clashes with the week the owner is on holiday, so I am going to have to ask for it to be deferred or we will have to close the shop. Then I have to ask permission to use taxis, as other transport will be impractical. Apart from that it’s OK and I’m just hoping that they won’t drop me for being too difficult.
There are several pages of forms to fill out, but apart from that it’s all good.
The thought of forms reminds me that I have a Pain Survey to complete. I forget the exact name and, for the life of me, cannot see how the questions get answers that help with anything, but I was asked and it seems a good thing to do if it helps anyone. The only trouble is that it always means I have to think about joint pain, something I mange to push to the back of my mind most of the time. It also makes me dwell on the fact I was reasonably fit just five years ago, and am now a reclusive cripple.
You remember me saying that it was a waste of time submitting my latest piece? Well, I had the reply this afternoon. two days. Not my quickest rejection, I thought, but swift enough. Then it turns out to be an acceptance. That just goes to show the wisdom of doing something rather than talking yourself out of it. There is a lesson there.
That, I do believe, is 99 published poems.