live-blogging emotional distress

[The following was written earlier today on my phone]

Believe it or not there is an element of planning which goes into these posts. Even if they have an air of the inane ramblings of a grumpy old fart.

This being MS, however, there's always something which can bring you back to earth. More often than not, explicitly so. 

As I write this I'm in Wales with Little Ms D, my parents, my brother and his kids. So far it has been a non-stop cavalcade of lazy beach days, seaside food and amusement arcades. And I've pleased myself (and others) with the amount of walking I've done. 

Was I too pleased with myself?

No matter. Because early we today, after a good while engaged with the serious business of building some sandcastles, I found I couldn't get up. And when I did, I lost my balance and - in the most drawn-out slow motion scene ever - I ended up falling into the rock we'd parked ourselves up against.

Grazed arms, jarred back, bruised ego. 

Or, in my brother's more positive version...

I fell into a hard rock wall and didn't split my head open. 

Can't argue with that kind of logic, right?

I lay on the floor for a good few moments. I was pretty happy down there to be honest.

I'd forgotten that I can't really squat on my haunches, even for a short while, without my shitty legs packing up on me.

Later, when walking up to buy an ice cream, I was unable to pick my feet over a clump of seaweed. So flat on my arse again.

Bruised ego 2: Electric Boogaloo.

After initially wanting to go back to the holiday home I decided to park up on a bench. Which is where you find me.

I'm currently watching my daughter play football with her cousins. I hope she doesn't ever think I was voluntarily absent from scenes like this. And I hope she knows that I wish with all my heart I could do all the normal Dad things.