I am sorry to say that the promised headache did materialise, and so the day has been a bit of a non-event.
I have spent it very quietly.
My major achievement of the day so far, if you don’t count getting dressed, has been to cook a tray of sausages and a chicken in advance of the children’s return at the weekend.
You might be pleased to hear that things are easing off now, probably because of the drugs. Drugs are brilliant. I am glad I am alive now and not twenty years ago. Obviously I was alive twenty years ago, when pain killing drugs were not as effective, but I am not now. I am alive today, and a combination of codeine and ibuprofen is working its magical miracle, and I have eased into a drugful pain-free wonderland. Well, relatively pain free, anyway.
In consequence we have not gone to work, nor, once again, I am ashamed to say, to the gym. I can practically feel the fat globules clustering around my liver as I write. I didn’t eat anything until about three o’clock this afternoon, when I was suddenly starving, and wolfed down three biscuits all at once. It will take me a week of no-distance rowing to make that up.
Mark cut firewood, and we took the dogs for a walk around the Rec. This turned out to be excitingly bracing, I had cold ears, but was glad not to be chasing a hat. Roger Poopy thought it was all very exciting, and chased everything, from some crows to everybody else’s dog. He tried to chase his father, who ignored him, loftily, so he rushed around by himself, barking at leaves.
I think I might cut this short. I am on the road to recovery, but a day of unremitting idleness seems to have left me ready to collapse into bed. I might not have been to the gym, but I still feel as though I have been auditioning for the PT Corps.
I apologise for being both brief and unsatisfactory. I know how much you enjoy hearing about dusting and baking biscuits, and am sorry that I have got no such excitements to report. I promise that I will endeavour to work some thrills into tomorrow’s entry.
In the meantime, have a picture of the author writing these very words. Actually they are not these very words. Mark took it last night after I had been twisting my arm about trying to take a selfie of the back of my head.
I didn’t use it last night. I thought I would save it for a day in which I had no photograph.
I was surprised by how quickly that event has occurred.
