Nothing interesting happened yesterday

I woke up quite early on Sunday, finished reading Our Man In Havana before breakfast. Mum came up to visit in the afternoon, and I had a short nap; she headed down the road to go to mass, then came back up with dad for dinner. They talked for a while about putting in a new kitchen, and about whether I was getting enough fluids now that I've been taken off of the saline IV, and left at about nine o'clock; I started reading Iain M. Banks' Use of Weapons, one of his Culture series, then went to sleep.

Today was better. Mum came up after lunch, and brought a portable hard drive containing my music collection and a bunch of American telly which I'd downloaded, along with enough movies to keep me going for a while; organising everything into iTunes alone, will be hours of fun for a rainy afternoon. We tried to figure out from our recollections of the treatment protocol whether I'd be home for Christmas -- barring infection or other complications it really rather looks like I will -- and listened to the news on the radio. Some mix-up in the kitchen resulted in my being sent pureed chicken with mashed potatoes and carrots for my dinner, bizarrely enough, which mum was good enough to choke down; I had a microwave pasta thing from the fridge. After tea, mum headed off to the drawing class she's doing at Glasgow; I kept an eye on an eBay auction for my 21st birthday/Christmas present, a Leica M6 camera.

Later on, dad came to visit; he sat and did some work while I burned him some CDs and babysat my auction. I won, in the end, and for a good three hundred or so pounds less than what I was willing to pay. Taking a new camera out to play is definitely something I'm looking forwards to once I get out of isolation, now; in the meantime, it'll be good to get some pictures of all of the people who've been taking such good care of me. Dad left at about half past nine, and I listened to some music for a while; I think I'll got to bed, now.