Thursday, 26 August 2010

'Summer's lease.....

so soon is run.....'

Never a truer word spoken, Bard.

Summer's lease has well and truly expired, with a welter of lashing rainstorms to mark what seems to be much more like a foreclosure, with the bailiffs of approaching winter bundling summer unceremoniously out the door.

So I type this with the wood-burner lit and some warming cheese on toast and a bottle of Guinness close to hand.

Comfort, I feel, is essential.

Ah. The phone just rang, (it was Jackie), and while my back was turned, (literally, leaning out of the window into the precipitation to maintain some sort of mobile signal), a certain Ginger & White Menace scoffed most of the cheese off one slice!

I have decided to forgive him instantly on the grounds that he was a bit poorly over the weekend.

This attempt to purloin the cheesy comestibles is clearly a sign of a return to rude good health.

Actually, my own health has not been the Joe Guest of late. I've been feeling run-down and haven't been sleeping well. I saw the Doc on Wednesday regarding, among other fairly neurotic middle-aged-male type ailments, a mole on my back which has decided to do all the things that moles aren't supposed to do, and have, as a result, been given a fast-track appointment at The Addenbrookes Hospital Nasty-Looking-Mole Clinic.

At least, I would have one if the buggers ever picked up the phone.........


Not to worry, though. Jackie is going to sort it all out for me in the morning.

Meanwhile, I'm not sure whether to put my affairs in order, cancel my Centenary of The Titanic Disaster lecture in 2012, or just not put on any long-playing records.

'Summer's lease', eh.........

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