Husband is poorly

Really poorly. I know because it is a beautiful day and he went back to bed at 1.00pm. Husband never takes to his bed unless he is really poorly. He makes me mad because he will say he doesn't feel well and then still do more work about the place than I do on a day I feel fine, so it must be real flu not man-flu.

I got up first this morning and brought us tea in bed. An hour later Husband said, 'Will you go and make me a hot Lemsip, please?'
I did as bid and didn't bother going back to bed again. I blogged, showered and decided to go to the car boot sale.

Before I went I asked him if he'd like a coffee. 'Yes, please.'

I went downstairs, made the coffee, took it back up to him.
'This is a bit strong. And it's not very warm.'
'Would you like me to go and warm it up?'
'Yes, please.'

Downstairs again, zap the coffee and back up.
'It's not very sweet. Did you put sugar in?'
'Yes.'
'It's not sweet enough. You know I have one and a half.'

Downstairs again, put a half in and back up.
'It's not funny. I'm not enjoying this!' (All this said in a pathetic, I can't talk loudly voice.)
'No, dear. I'm going now. Goodbye.'

Because my Thrive circuits class finishes for August, I usually go to the gym for a work-out but Younger Son has been playing tennis recently so I said I'd go with him - and that will make a whole blog episode on its own I have no doubt. Trouble is my racquet is, rather like me, very old and wooden and heavy, hence my trip to the car boot this morning.

I came back with a cookery book, a Michaelmas daisy for the garden (after reading about them on a blog), 2 story cassettes for ironing, and a tennis racquet.

On one stall, I asked the young lad, 'How much is this tennis bat?'
He said, 'It's a squash racquet.'

There was a shortage of tennis racquets. The one I bought was the only one I saw. Well, the only one with strings. It even has a cover and it was a bargain at £1. Getting home I noticed that some strings are missing, but the way I play tennis it won't make any difference.