Before I embark on today's meagre offering, can I just thank all of you lovely readers for your kind wishes, get well soons, advice, empathy and emojis of green people vomiting, which I have only managed to look at fully in the last twenty four hours. It meant a lot to know that you were all thinking of me as various parts of my anatomy were stuck down the loo...
So you'll all be pleased to know that I woke up yesterday feeling completely back to normal. No pain, no Larry Grayson mincing and wincing, no ten metre dashes across the landing, everything seemed better.
But the real indicator that I was on the mend was that before I left for work yesterday morning, I had managed to do the cleaning upstairs, hang out the washing, empty the dishwasher, prepare my lunch and walk the dogs. This is me all over. Run before you can walk and all that. Doing all of this meant that by the time I got to Binland at 9.00, I was ready for a power nap. I did consider penciling in a false set of peepers onto my eyelids and sliding down behind my monitor for a while, but decided that an extra strong mug of coffee might be the better alternative. As the oldest member of the sales team at Binland, one has to set an example you know.
Going back to my walk yesterday, I have started bringing my wellies indoors. I had an interesting situation with them last year which involved a slug (have you ever seen the inside of a slug? I have...), and I now do careful banging before I put them on to go walking. As the mornings are getting chillier, I thought that it might be a good idea to bring them in, and sit them on an old tea towel in my office, with the aim of having warmer wellies when I do want them. So I grabbed them yesterday, doing away with the obligatory banging as they had been inside all night, and folding my right trouser leg flat, I slid my foot in.
Lovely Reg, who has a penchant for 'burying' things in the house had deposited a well sucked dog chew in there. Lifting my foot back out of the wellie, I shook the chew out onto the carpet, and it was at that point that I gave up a silent thanks to Mrs H from Bath for selling Reg to me in the first place. I know that this is not something I often say about the little bugger, but on this occasion he had outshone himself.
Wrapped around the mangled chew were the remains of a rather large spider. Now Reg has a fondness for a spider appetizer before his evening meal, so I can't imagine that he would have done a squirrel/nut thing and buried this also in my wellie for later. I therefore have to assume that the poor old spider had snuggled down for the evening, when suddenly his world caved in.