The Mullans are desperate for me not be left on my own and to that end we have gone on a series of long and increasingly elaborate walks. And I am dead grateful for it too. Yesterday's though might have been a bit too elaborate as it saw me shimmy under barbed-wire, over five-bar gates, into a "shuck" ("Climb down into the shuck, John, hi" "I don't know what a shuck is, Dee!") into the personal space of both a sheep's skull and a burned out, bullet-riddled car and finally into a forest where we were strafed by helicopters! Tricky business for a man with one knee!* But after it all I realised that it was the best I'd felt for a very long time. To paraphrase the Wombles "Exercise is good for you, compiling a dream diary sat drunkenly in your pants is not". It felt good to get out, get some exercise and do things I wouldn't ordinarily do and limboing under a barbed wire fence is one of those things. And it's hard to be that miserable in the company of Maggie the dog, she is one of natures true wallies: dirty tongue, an inside out ear and always, always covered in shite!
So thank you Mullans.
*see "King Leer"