Dolly and I had a day off today. The weather was cold, damp and horrid, and neither of us were inclined to do much more than droop.
My cough is getting better but it’s a crafty blighter. It seems to wait for me to lie down, and then it hits me like a seaside funfair. All the signs I know of indicate that it’s no more than the standard winter cough–the one that’s laid loads of vulnerable people low this year. The doctor agrees however that it’s gone on quite long enough and that serious attention must be paid.
But that’s for next week. For the moment I pop the antibiotic pills, sip the lemon and honey, and eat two hearty meals a day. Can’t complain, not really I can’t.
And if I did, Dolly the Mega-Cat would have none of it. ”Pull yourself together, you old fool,” she’d say. And she’d be right.
Pull yourself together, do
With a thick Welsh wool blanket, a well-worn teddy bear (his name is George) and a don’t-mess-with-me pussy cat, I reckon I’m well set up for support and care.
