It is with wonderful delight I find my cold of the last few days is subsiding. No more do I sneeze every two minutes, no more do I need to run to the supermarket and purchase another box of tissues. It's wonderful, almost like being able to breath fresh air when being locked up in a room. Which is another thing, the sense of smell returning again, but oddly I find my appetite is not what it used to be. I just don't feel inclined to eat as much as I used to eat. I still eat, but it's the amounts. Yesterday I left half a pint of Guinness, today I ate sandwiches from the shop rather than going into a cafe. This is a big thing for me as my habitual requirement is to eat hot food. A couple of more days with the echinacea capsules, vitamin C and liquids and all should be healed.
Talking about food. My biggest personal dread when the Olympics comes along is being able to get to my local shops and get lunch. The dread is based on there being millions of additional people about. People who want to take my seat in my cafe or pub, people I'd call trespassers. When it's all over I will still be here but these villains will be gone, never to be seen again. I'll be lucky if I don't starve to death when the events begin. Ironically it could be at the end of the Olympics I'll be at my physical peak, having lost a couple of stone and walked everywhere. At which point I could even be a record breaker. One thing is sure, a slimmer looking me would give even Hussain Bolt a run for his money, especially if there was a hot meal at the end of the track, and I'm not kidding. Just when the scientists thought running was about putting one foot in front of the other faster than anyone else, it's not. It's all to do with the right motivation. hmmmm, yum.
I took Monster Boy for a walk this evening around a local urban lake. It's only a mile in circumference. He wouldn't stop talking. He just went on and on and on. I don't know what he had been eating or in whose company he had been. Whoever it was they hadn't listened to a word he said all day. Or possibly for the last week. It was like he had saved it up and waited till he could spill it all out. Just having someone to talk to for him was wonderful. I thought my ears were going to drop off. I kept saying "yes" and "is that so" and occasionally when he said something which didn't make much sense I'd question it and he'd have to think about whether what he said was a load of rubbish or not. In the end as we neared his home I said to him I thought he must be all talked out and probably didn't have any more words to say. Because I knew if he did talk any more then there would be nothing but silence, his lips would move but there would be no voice. He considered this for a moment or two, and this gave me a short sweet delicious 30 seconds of silence. I couldn't take any more after that and decided to go. A sandwich was waiting for me, cheese and pickle. Guess what? I got home pretty quickly as well.
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