Wednesday October 18, 2006
Started the day feeling generally out of sorts. Congested, no appetite, mild grumpiness. First I put it down to my morning diuretic, and announced my intent to go back to bed. It wasn’t that but I was a bit closer to an accurate diagnosis when I woke after about an hour. It was the weather, I thought. Mild, and damp. Making me feel creaky and below par.
A little while later I started a mild sore throat.
“Ah,” I said. “I think I’ve gone and caught a bit of a cold.”
“Oh, great. That means I’ll get it.”
“Not necessarily. It’s only a very minor thing, I’m sure. I’ll pop some aspirin and that’ll probably see it off.”
My faith in my diagnosis, the resilience of my system, and the magic of aspirin were fully justified when, somewhere around lunch time, I was back firing on all 3.5 cylinders. Well, at my age and in my condition, 3.5 cylinders is about as good as it ever gets and that’s quite good enough for me.
Meanwhile, well on the road to recovery after his dental stuff yesterday, Graham had been siezed with an urge to fix things to other things and the house was sprouting new lighting, shelves and mirrors. One lighting fitment was faulty, which caused great alarms and diversions of the blue language kind.
“We’ll have to return it for an exchange,” Graham said, a little glum of demeanour.
“Oooh, goody! IKEA breakfast!”
“See how it goes.”
His glumness seemed to have faded greatly at the thought, though, so I suspect that if not tomorrow then very shortly we’ll be taking a trip up the road to Bristol and an IKEA breakfast platter. This time I’ll remember to take a photograph of it.
Come dinner time, late because Graham had kept on with his fixings project, I was not inclined to do much in the way of cooking so I slapped a couple of pizzas in the oven. Delicious, they were.
“Where’d you get these?” Graham asked.
“I think you’d better get some more.”
“I’ll do that.”