I suppose my run of luck on the health and injuries front had to tumble at some point.
Having felt as strong as at any other time covering 18 more wet miles on Monday, Tuesday’s 20 miles was cut to 18 due to general malaise. Wednesday was abandoned to seek recovery and by Thursday a short 6 mile dog walk was as much as I could manage and an utterly exhausting experience. Even walking up the hill out of the village was more sapping than a scree slope scramble. Man-flu had struck!
Hence Thursday night was spent sitting up in bed privately grumbling my way through a selection of TV movies with an excess of aches, coughs and pathetic snuffles. I watched John Thaw and Dennis Waterman ham it up in the 1977 movie version of ‘The Sweeney’ on ITV4 with mild, totally unjustifiable, anger for my family for importing a plethora of viruses specifically aimed at my infection. It was probably wise that I didn’t watch ‘Kill Bill: Vol. 2’ on Dave instead.
Rather than make things worse I elected to take Friday off from walking to sort out my kit, cough a bit, research overnight stops, cough a bit more, tidy the study, keep coughing and make a general nuisance of myself by regularly interrupting Kate for a chat (and another cough) whilst she worked from home in the kitchen. I was productive in all areas. Indeed, I was so successful that Kate even decided to take the dogs out for a walk to escape me, my coughs and prove quite unnecessarily that she is perfectly capable of coping in my absence.
Oh…and lest I forget. Happy Birthday Gemma! A child no more and someone who has certainly got her head screwed on better than I had at her age. Actually, if I think about it, she beats me now!