Wishful thinking has been playing its part the last couple of days. The Fox seemed so much better, I got on with the ironing yesterday. In the afternoon we popped to the butcher's for some chicken, anticipating a more experimental meal for today. Then we popped into the Pub for an hour's chat with our friends, all of whom seemed in good spirits. We came home & the Fox was positively sinking. He enjoyed eating his turkey croquettes which he'd planned to fry up in the evening but felt too far gone to actually cook even though I had prepared them in the morning. After the meal he crashed out. The rest of the evening was spent half-dozing, half-watching the TV, definitely semi-conscious. The backlash had arrived. His recovery has taken a step back. Now I await to see if it's just the tail-end or a re-sinking into misery.
Meanwhile I've had to go ahead and cook the poached chicken with lardons & lentils. I've also par-boiled some new potatoes to saute later on. It's more work than I would have liked to do when the Fox is ill, but I don't want the ingredients to go to waste. It has to be admitted the leek was beginning to look a little past it as it was. I can see I shall have to have a few more days of getting back to basics food-wise. I just hope the Fox picks up soon.
He wasn't best pleased when Mr P, the music teacher, came into the Pub, admitted he was streaming with cold, asked if I had any paracetamol on me (he knows I always have some with me in case my knees flare up into too much pain) & sat down with us.Thus colds are spread &, in our opinion, it is only courteous to others, to stay away when you are in such ill-health. We've been doing our best to avoid me getting it. So far I'm fine, just looking very tired according to Mrs B, & we don't want that to change.
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