“Wassamatta with you?” Graham asked.
“Wind. Bad wind. Wind of the gut-wrenching, ouch! ouch! ouch! variety.”
“Oh. You’ve got wind, then.”
“That’s about it.”
“What shall you do about it?”
“Windeeze. And then, when I’ve cleared some of it, I shall sip a nice tissanne of peppermint.”
“Good. Get a move on, then, ‘cos we’ve got to go to B&Q.”
And that was the extent of my sympathy ration for the day. Can’t really complain, of course, because I’ve drawn very heavily on my account at the Bank of Loving Sympathy recently.
I shall get a hug and an ‘oh, you poor old thing’ sometime this evening, though, you see if I don’t.
Meantime, peppermint tea, anyone?
