The month might have started with the rosy prospect of 31 days of non-stop luck and brilliant outcomes, if at 3:30’ish this AM the first words I spoke to usher in the new month had been Hares and Rabbits. What I actually said was “fecking, fecking mozzies”. By then I had been bitten nine times and worse, the sudden movement spasmed the back so that the sciatica moved from outer leg to groin.
Later, I explained to Madame that I thought I was actually having a DVT moment. She replied that she would have been happy to have been woken for that, but was less impressed by being disturbed by a Mozzy bite.
Sometimes, even after 35 years, I don’t understand. Talking of failing to understand the going, or the ground underfoot….
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