... but you can't tell him much. Thanks to Andy Kirkpatrick for that rather good joke about my home county. My lovely home county. If we ever move again, I hope it will be to go back there. Though it will have to be to a flat bit of it - say Hull or York - given the state of me.
I was just re-reading Andy's " "Cold Wars"... Aaaarrrgghh. He is a mad climber. The climbing personality, as read about, could hardly be further from my own, which may be why I find reading about it so fascinating.
A hectic day yesterday, and I am exhausted. A landmark was reached in that I personally made a delivery on my magazine route - the first one for perhaps a year? I tottered slowly round to the other end of the flats - it felt rather like climbing Everest. Bob was at home, and we had a nice chat - and he seemed pleased with the magazines. And as I tottered slowly back I met up with a visitor who was looking for the window cleaner. We had a long chat, and I managed to give her a little witness too. She was down here for her brother's funeral and to sort out his flat. So I was able to say a little something about the resurrection hope. It was like a present from Jehovah.
The Captain took us to Arundel for lunch - veggie pasta and salad for me, pie and mash for him - then he left me with my mug of foamy coffee and my studying while he went off to do his filming. He got a couple of good little movies of Ratty. Or was it Voley? I haven't seen them yet. We are in Exodus at the moment.
The upshot of it all was that, though I really enjoyed it, I was quite ill for the rest of the day, and remain so. These operations have taken it out of me to a frightening extent. Will I make it to my 3 score years and ten? I am seriously starting to wonder.
According to our calendar The Roger is in kingdom this week. Is he? Will we hear from him?
Since I wrote those words - yes we have! Several emails have arrived, and he plans to arrive for lunch tomorrow. So now I must think of what to give him...