My wife returned home from London last night, distinctly hung over from the previous night's jollities. I had followed on by 24 hours, so today she was nearly (though not quite) back to normal, whereas I felt more than a little fragile and had recourse to paracetamol and substantial quantities of grapefruit juice. By which devices I was able to step out for a city hill-walk which was accomplished under dazzlingly blue skies without too much puffing and panting.
But that did it for me for some hours, though I did find sufficient energy to make tea, which consisted of creamed chicken on toast and even wash up afterwards. The wife has popped out as I write to secure a can of diet Pepsi for herself and an Irnbru for me- should work wonders.
I'm trying not to dwell too much on tomorrow, which will be my penultimate day as senior partner. I know the novelty will wear off soon, but I really am actually looking forward to living my new life.
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