How do you like them apples?

Alarm went off at 6.30am again and I managed to grumble through 20 minutes of Hallie Cotnam before getting up again to start the big translation again. Then I realised the mistral in my head had stopped. “That’s bloody typical,” I thought. “There’d be one big advantage to not being able to hear, and I don’t even get that.”
 
Vanessa, my proofreader in France, has Covid. Actually, I think she might survive despite the theatrical “vais-je mourir?” of the end of last week. This was replaced today by an “je suis un peu crevée, mais ça va”. I’m glad, not least because it would be a pain in the arse to track down her estate to pay her what I owe.
 
Ottawacker Jr. got out of bed for school and started complaining of stomach pains. I sympathetically gave him a bowl of yoghurt (home made) and he ran to the toilet. The best laxative known to man. But, it meant I had to drive him into school where he, now stomach pain free, was raring to go and start his day.
 
I had a stop-start day and was pretty unfocused. I’ve not been right since Hallie Cotnam returned to my life. Mrs. Ottawacker had to head off for a dental appointment. Early evening, I sat down and wrote the first draft of my next book review. Another sports one – already I am getting typecast. This one is John Toshack’s autobiography. A huge improvement on the one I read before. No SparseRunner quotes in, this time, though…
 
Then had a nice catch up via Skype with my friends out in Victoria. The main topic of conversation (other than their own incipient Covid) was the size of the apples in the interior…. Bigger than a human head.