Flights of Fancy

Let’s give peace a chance…


Well, it’s 3.27 am on Thursday morning and I can’t get to sleep. My legs itch and while having a scritch I did check that it was still plural. I checked them twice in case like other asses I had forefeet. In the (almost) week since the last nurse signed me off to fend for myself I haven’t managed to lose a leg and that’s something I don’t think that any of them had faith in. To be honest I think they would have considered coming until my right leg was fully healed but as the last one left clutching her tin of chocolates , she did mumble something about them all having to go on diets. I’ve missed them this week and their mostly tender ministrations but it’s honestly no reflection on them if I say I won’t mind if I never have to see them again. Unfortunately that’s…

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