and everything, as my wings have been severely clipped since our day out in London. I was confined to the sofa yesterday, trying to keep my swollen ankle higher than my head, every trip to the loo like climbing Everest without oxygen. I feel about a hundred and seventy five.
One day out in London! And I used to be a great walker.
And there is Maurice on the beach. We are supposed to be friends by now - posing for one of those cute animal pictures in The Daily Mail - Me and Maurice, my mussel friend - well there will be some terrible punning headline but a great picture.
He has yet to speak to me. But he will. And he is going to break my heart. But not by getting eaten by a seagull.
I had to cancel my field service with Audrey yesterday. Will I be able to go out with Jean today?
I hope so. I am up early just about to take my medication, but it is still painful to set foot to ground.
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