It ought to have been an event-filled morning, the last bit of balmy weather for a while. As it was we had to wait in, twiddling thumbs, for the ParcelFarce man to come and collect a big heavy parcel–Graham sold our redundant dehumidifier on eBay–” between 9 and 2″. He turned up at 2:28, just as the last trace of sunshine disappeared behind the cloud and a chill wind blew up.
We decided we’d dash out for shopping to Tesco at Neath Abbey and grab a burger lunch in Burger King on the way home.
Tesco’s was dire. The Burger King was fine. I had a double whopper meal with super fries. Graham had to have the same otherwise he’d have felt left out. As it turned out I ought to have made a much smaller choice because I was really struggling towards the end. I have been training myself to take and enjoy much smaller portions as I approach 70. There’s no better way to postpone 80 indefinitely than to continue eating meals fit for a navvy.
“Cor!” I breathed as I stuffed in the last morsel. ”That was mighty meaty, matey. What shall we have for dessert?”
“I thought you were full?”
“Course I am. My savoury tummy is stuffed. But as you know perfectly well, dessert goes into a different compartment.”
“Ah yes. I’d forgot. Something with ice cream in it?”
“You gottit.”
Home, and a late siesta, more out of form than necessity. It’s just getting dark now, at 18:41, and the sky is almost clear. It’ll be cold tonight or I’m a monkey’s uncle.
