Just for starters

Friday June 9, 2006

I wasn’t overly impressed with my blood test this morning. The nurse hadn’t been briefed, and there was no paperwork ready. So I had to explain that I was there for cholesterol, liver function, and the one the name of which I always forget, having something to do with using diuretics regularly over a long period. The appropriate forms were completed and then the actual procedure carried out. And it hurt! Not a big hurt, obviously, but a really sharp jab and pressure that made my eyes water. I suppose that I’ve been spoiled over the years but I can’t remember the last time that taking a blood sample hurt. Now, late in the evening, the site has developed a nasty little bruise, too.

Hey ho. Mustn’t complain. Worse things happen at sea. I was glad to get back out into the sunshine and forget about it, though.

It was a little hotter again today so I did the stately progress thing from there on, sailing gently down to the library and over to the Co-op. I was lucky to get out of Williton as easily as I did, pushing the little silver Ford through a narrow gap in what was rapidly becoming the familiar summer season gridlock. I got the impression that I was the last one to do so for a while, though, because I had the road out of the village to myself and no other traffic caught up with me for a couple of miles, perhaps more.

“The grockles are coming,” I told Graham when I checked in. “The main road is chock-a-block, and Williton was as close as you can get to chaos in a tiny village.”

“They’re not coming here,” he said. “I’m not sure it’s going to be worthwhile opening the bar this evening.”

“Good. Any mail?”


“Fair enough. Looks like it’ll be a quiet weekend. I shall go down to the caravan and put my feet up until lunchtime.”

There are two major aspects to quiet. One is the absence of activity and the other the absence of noise. We were blessed with the former but, sadly, the latter was shattered by a rowdy barbeque party a little way up the hill. I don’t grudge people their enjoyment but I do sometimes wish they were not so generous in sharing the awful thump-thump-thumpy-thump they call music these days.

Graham did open the bar—duty is such a hard task-master—so I arranged the big fan for maximum cooling effect and snuggled up with Dolly on the sofa for the evening, following her example by ignoring the unmusical thumps. I slept untypically heavily and was startled when Graham came in the door shortly before midnight. Dolly did the delighted to see you act while I shook the sleep from my head.

“She’s a good cat,” Graham said as he gave her a protracted scritty-scratch. “No trouble at all.”

“We’ll have to get her a leather medal.”

“I think she’d prefer a new catnip mouse. Especially with the slidy solid floors in the new house.”

“I shall add it to my list. There’s a good pet supplies shop in Bridgwater. Half a dozen should do it.”

“It’ll do for starters.”

“Well, yes, of course. Just for starters.”



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