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Wednesday 3rd 59F/15C [5.25] Heavily overcast with a week of rain forecast.
I first woke at 4.40. In the vice like, death grip of a choke hold. By my own worst enemy. Nobody knows how to inflict such pain as does my ancient, battle-scarred body. It sought to press searing hot coals into my lower abdomen. As I writhed in the agony of a foetal position.
Convulsed by the unfulfilled bout of a paralyzing cough. Which would surely end my long days if it did not release me soon. My distended bowels sought to separate themselves from my lower torso. I was being hung, drawn and quartered by my very own, congested lungs!
It was not to be. At least not today. My body had not yet finished with me. Nor managed to finish me off. The cough let go into spasms of a last, vain attempt to clear the detritus. I gasped for breath. As I applied all my remaining finger strength to retain my intestine. Before it had the chance to finally rupture into a gory eruption. To fill the entire space beneath the duvet. Leaving the first responders to gag onto my faux, Indian carpet.
I fought my way upright. As if rising from a dark, fetid pond full of viciously stabbing demons. Coughing and coughing. In my best, last efforts at barely human survival.
Then, somehow, I was able to flop back down into the gory depths. Using exhaustion and gravity alike. To sleep for another half hour. Only to become the action man and star of my next chilling episode of splatter movies. I told you I haven't been well.
Breakfast will be another disaster. I have no more organic raisins. To blend with my large, organic, porridge oat flakes. My recent battles with death have caused a hiatus in my reaching a suitable outlet. Which holds me to ransom over the purchase of such a humble, dried fruit. Of such exquisite flavour and perfection of moisture content. That I am unable, or rather unwilling. To lower myself to the purchase and consumption of vastly inferior wares. My previously generous hoard has finally been depleted at the worst possible time.
This rarity is not caused by expense. Rather than sheer distance to reach the nearest vending supermarkets. As if by some hideous fluke of nature. Both are at least 12km away from Chez Hovel. Both are in opposite directions! A third is only slightly further away in town. On the tip of some strange, Bermuda Triangle. How unfair is that?
17.30 In the late afternoon I had finally plucked up my courage and headed north. I told the fish: "I might be some time." Just in case. There was shopping to be done. Though not in the apotek. Where I was refused a top-up due to a lack of a current prescription. So I stumbled breathlessly back downhill to the nearby supermarket. Where I had already parked.
I did my shopping and then went to be fleeced by the oil companies. The Morris was running low on virgin, hand pressed, organic, caviar juice. I timidly approached the 200kr [£23] mark and called it a day. At that price I could have used a jug to have filled up! The rubber seal in the air pump has still not been replaced. It's only a job after all. What price the road safety of their over-paying customers? Who must surely be dwindling as EVs swamp the market.
And so onto the next supermarket and the next. Coughing loudly at intervals. In the vain hope of some sympathy for my walking NDE. Since ghosts don't cough. Nor pant like a stationary steam engine. They probably thought I was homeless and had drifted in by mistake. A metallic gold Tesla was parked nearby in the last supermarket car park. Very pretty! These cars are sporting some amazing colours these days.
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