A Running Duck*

The flat phone rings.  “Hello?” I say.

“Hello my lovely,” Seb says.

My heart lifts as I hear his voice.  “My darling,” I say.  “How are things?”  Carrying the phone back to my bedroom, I crawl into bed.

“Not too bad,” he says.  “Although we’ve just had a class on graphs and spreadsheets and I’m not as good as the youngsters at those so it was a bit frustrating.  But I’ll get better.  Do you know how to use Excel?”

“Sort of,” I say.

“Well the eighteen year olds are at a far higher level than I am with computers,” he says.  “How are you, my lovely?”

“Not feeling that well,” I say.  “Just had my flu injection this morning and it always makes me feel ill, even though Mum says this isn’t possible.  Oh, had the Zolodex as well, and got some cuts and scrapes on the bike ride today, it was slippery and…”

“Lovely day for cycling,” Seb says.

“Yes,” I say.  “It was sunny but muddy from all the rain, so kept banging into things.  What are you up to?”

“Just going into town to buy some sharp knives for cooking, and maybe another pan,” Seb says.  “Then going back to grapple with the computer programs.”

“OK darling,” I say.  “Love you.”

“Love you my sweet,” Seb says.

My left arm aches.  Unfortunately I have to have injections in my writing arm now as had all the nodes out on my right side.  So mustn’t cut or scratche or inject my right arm.
Am going to make The Omelette and have a restful evening.

Attached photo contains some of the ducks at the Mill.  We saw them whilst out cycling.

Happy Thursday everyone!
*1974.  By Paula Gosling.  Detective novel


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