Am still suffering with my severe cold, but have done a good thing: have booked a course for this term. It’s called “Modern British Prime Ministers: 1900 to 2015” and it starts tomorrow at 2pm. So must attempt to be better by then.
Am very pleased with self that have organised this. Now will have a new thing to talk about; will be engaging what’s left of my brain and will meet some new people. Some new retired people would imagine, but that’s good. Enjoy the company of the elderly.
“No-one will talk to you, you’re too fat,” the panther says. Am in bed. Will drag self to the kitchen soon and put the kettle on.
“Won’t have to talk to anyone,” I say, sitting up in bed. “There will be a teacher and…well, am not sure. Need a new notebook.”
“You have plenty of notebooks from all those writing projects you’re always starting and abandoning,” the panther says, turning his head so he can clean his shoulder.
“I’ve written four hundred and ninety nine blog posts though,” I say, blowing my nose.
“Am I in it?” He says, pushing his front paws in front of him, pushing his bum to the ceiling, stretching his huge self.
“You are,” I say.
“Do your readers love me?” He says, resting his huge head on my legs.
“No, they think you’re horrible,” I say.
“Oh,” he says, looking sad.
“Maybe you should look inside yourself and ask yourself why,” I say, smiling to myself. “And make me a cup of coffee.”
The panther jumps down from my bed and disappears down the corridor, his long tail trailing behind him.
The attached photo is a fuchsia in my road.
Happy Thursday everyone!
*2015. By Robert Ryan. Book 3 in the thriller series starring Dr Watson, set in 1917.