Sick

After the cold and damp of the last couple of weeks, our numbers are at an all time low. A few of us thrive in the cold weather, but for those more delicate flowers, the cold and wind has scythed them down to snot ridden heaps of coughing, shivering, sneezing flesh. I’m not too keen on hot weather myself, and often find the chill rather enervating. Mrs S has observed on more than one occasion that I have a ‘cold weather metabolism’. This adaptation probably comes from prolonged hours in the saddle of a motorcycle in all weathers not so many years ago.

Another advantage at present is that those who are left get the pick of the beats. No more ‘long walks spoiled’ which is nice because my new boots are still chafing a little. Never mind, Kerry, my boss, is pleased to see us as, to put it in her own words; “You lot are all Duracell bunnies, you just keep on going no matter what.” I think she means it quite innocently, not referring to something like this when she hears of the hardier souls among us heading out on patrol when others just want to come indoors during rough weather. For myself the reason is purely selfish; I just like to pick a sheltered spot out of the way where I can daydream a bit, away from my noisier brethren who think the sound of their own raucous voices is the loveliest sound in the world; and as for the stench of day old microwaved curry (Horrified shudder). Why do you think we call it ‘The Mess’?

Any old road up, I’m feeling quite smug at present as I’m just going to start another ‘long weekend’ type rest break. Life could be a whole lot worse.