Sunday, 2 September 2018

On Hermione and the Demon.

Dear Hermione woke my demon up tonight.

‘Look,’ I said to him in no uncertain terms, ‘it’s a bloody film, you idiot. Go back to sleep.’

Well, he wasn’t entirely convinced. He continued snarling and slavering for a while, but at least he didn’t set my entrails on fire like he usually does.

He’s snoring now. I wish he’d shut up.

*  *  *

And today I did some more semi-strenuous gardening to further test the progress of my post-operative rehabilitation. How did it go? So-so. I still have about as much energy as a drunken slug, but the muscles are getting a bit of colour back in their cheeks.

*  *  *

And just to continue the success stories, I went for a walk today armed with a carrot and paid a visit to my two equine chums down the lane – the big, black half-shire and the little piebald Shetland pony. I haven’t seen them for some weeks and they seemed genuinely interested in my approach. They liked the carrot. If only Hermione was so easily pleased.

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