Shedmeister

This was not part of the plan, not at all. The plan had been either to go and see the tower poppies or to go to Brookwood Cemetery where there's always a dignified Remembrance Day ceremony. But the bug prevailed. I got to see the doc this afternoon but didn't tell her how ill I felt, just about the other niggles which she dispatched in a couple of ticks. No matter how many doctors I see, they can still find nothing wrong with me - a mystery of medical science. The doctor gave me a prescription but Gill told to me to hold fire as she had some of the same stuff for the dog! It turns out it's not quite the same. Tonight I'm back in bed and I feel bloody awful. The dog is fine.

George is the shedmeister. He fitted the workbench today in our new shed, in between painting the frame of a classic race bike he's restoring. I wanted to fix a vice on the bench but he won't let me yet, says there are still things to do. Normally he'd never let me take a pic like this but he'd had a few beers and was feeling sorry for me. Well done that man.