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7:00 AM: Too ill to get up. I’m
lying on my silk pillow under the living room heater picking at
a plate of tinned salmon and feeling miserable. Being sick is no
fun, and it’s keeping back from my heavy schedule of naps and
sleeps. (I always though of salmon as being fish shaped - but
strangely those in tins they are always round. I wonder if this
is a result of genetic engineering.)
1:01 PM: For the past few hours I
have been feeling really well. I have recovered from whatever
fatal illness I caught at the canal. All morning Skirt and Brat
have been fussing over me, bringing me cream and chocolates and
faux-fish-biscuits. I only have to make a pretend sneezing noise
and they give me a big cuddle. Think I’ll be sick for the rest
of the day!
11:00 PM: Have been stretched out
comfortably on my new chair all evening. At long last, Trousers
has accepted that it’s mine and is sitting on an old hard chair.
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