Wednesday, 24 February 2010
The above picture is more what Himself has in mind when you mention the magic word Boat, but unfortunately funds are a little pressed, so we now have the blow up boat which Himself is, this very morning, intending to inflate.
He doesn't seem very excited, given the amount of time, energy and money that's gone into it but I guess this is because it doesn't have a sail. There's a lot of talk about Getting On The Water and how it Doesn't Matter not sailing (oh, yeah?) so I only hope this machine won't end up in the harbour. At the bottom. For someone who has sailed all his life, and found great freedom in doing so, a paltry engine really isn't the same, but needs must...
He's also not been well. His lungs are bad and as this is caused by scarring on the lungs, there's nothing that can be done. Well, having said that, he's on his second bottle of cough mixture because the one from the doctors (which is free) was no good. Yesterday I heard him yelling, “POP!!”
I hurried next door, wondering what on earth had gone wrong to find him pointing at his laptop. “What do you think of that?” he said, pointing to his laptop screen. On it was a picture of Benylin bottles. “Are they any good?”
“I've taken it for bronchitis,” I said. “But what about the stuff from the GP?”
“No good,” came the curt reply. “Bloody stuff. I need this stuff – it's for a different kind of cough.”
Leaves on the line came to mind but I kept quiet while he hurtled down to Superdrug before it shut. Returning, he slammed the door. “Five pounds forty,” he muttered, throwing the first dose down his neck, followed swiftly by a beer. “Let's see if this does the trick.”
Of course on the outside it says Do Not Drink Alcohol with this. But he's still here. And not coughing quite so much. So who knows?