Once again I am on the taxi rank not having died, and I think in fact I am beginning to get a little better.
I knew this when I woke up this morning, and could swallow a mouthful of water with there merest wince. No longer did I wish to howl in pain as if it had unexpectedly contained a couple of dozen razor blades.
This was an extremely auspicious start to the day.
I was still staggering about a bit dizzily, and after a little while I decided it might be wise to take some drugs just as a nice thing, like chocolate buttons used to be before I was trying not to be fat, but even so, my feet were stolidly planted upon the Road To Recovery.
I have not needed to take any more drugs since, and I have managed to accomplish an almost entirely normal day.
Today I have missed Mark very much. This was because Lucy’s boyfriend, who is a chap after Mark’s own heart if ever I met one, has been asking me lots of questions about boilers.
Mark is not allowed to talk about boilers. He once spoiled a perfectly good dinner party when it chanced that one of the other guests was also interested in boilers, and he was misfortunately seated too far away to be kicked under the table.
Lucy’s boyfriend has turned out to be interested in boilers and all of their associated plumbing, and has been asking all about ours.
My explanations could be no more detailed than: There is our boiler. After that my expertise dried up.
Lucy nodded sympathetically.
In the end I sent Mark a message on his oil rig suggesting that he telephone them. They can talk about boilers until the Starlink runs out. Lucy’s boyfriend also had a sub-interest in building a compost heap. If they run out of things to say about boilers they can talk about compost. That should make Mark happy.
Lucy has slept for a lot of the day. She has not been feeling very well at all. I took the dogs over the fells this morning but I am so wheezy that by the time I got to the top I was practically asphyxiating. I stood at the top frantically trying to drag enough air into my lungs not to die, much to my alarm and the indifference of the dogs, who did not seem even to notice that I was about to expire, and that would be the end of anybody caring enough to buy them Winalot In Jelly.
I had to eat a lot of blackberries on the way down to console myself.
I think they have probably gone by now. They had cooked themselves an enormous dinner before I went to work, after which they planned to leave, in order to get back to Manchester tonight. Their master plan is to spend a whole day tomorrow de-fleaing Lucy’s house as well. They talked a lot about boiling sheets . I hope the sun shines and they can hang them all on the washing line.
They have got a lot of flea spray to take with them. I am sure everything will be fine. The poor cats have stopped scratching now, so I should think they will be all right.
It has been nice having their company, although it will be splendid to have a few days by myself, and I am hoping to be sufficiently recovered to write some of my story. I could not write anything with the razor-blade throat and the shivers, and whenever I have had five spare minutes I have just sloped off back to sleep for a while. It has been difficult enough trying to struggle through the mists of befuddlement to write in these pages.
Hopefully tomorrow will be an even better day.
I am looking forward to it.
