Tuesday November 21, 2006
I thought I was in for a real dreary, grizzle-mizzle of a day again. Woke up. Flopped. Got sent back to bed. Woke up. Grizzle-mizzled through lunch. Got sent back to bed… And then, at about seven in the evening…
“‘Ere!” I yelled up the stair. “I do believe I’m over the worst of it.”
“Good. You’re over the worst of it. Told you that sleep is the best medicine.”
“Cheeky monkey. I tell you that.”
“Well, if you’re arguing again you must feel better. Are you up to fixing a brew? I’m rather buried in bits of storage stuff just now and I’m gasping.”
“Right you are.”
And, bit by bit, throughout the evening and right up to bedtime, I continued to feel better and better. With care and a good dose of being sensible, I’m on the mend. I’m not counting any horses until the eggs are safely in the stable with the door firmly shut, though.
How long it’ll take me to rebuild my energy levels I don’t know. It may be that this will have to be a winter of living gently, dreaming through the long days and nights and waiting for clement weather to return. Or it may be that I’ll bounce back as soon as the crispy crunchy frosts clean the air. This season of mists and mellow fruitfulness thing is all very well but it dunnarf get ter yer chest.
Meantime, here we are again, happy as can be, all good friends and jolly good company. Thanks for sticking with me.