Quick, charge up the defribillator to 2 peaceful nights of Shoelace staying with his uncle in Spain.
Increase the charge to 4 nights without Shoelace worries.
Right, take it all the way up to 6 nights.
Oh doctor, are you sure? Think of the side effects.
Just do it. We’ve got no choice if we are ever going to get Mojo back.
Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep.
Mojo is alive!
But still very weak. We shall have to take great care over the next few weeks.
I prescribe one bowl of oats to be taken every morning.
Increase water therapy to a minimum of 2kms swimming weekly.
Book a therapeutic weekend away with Fat Fella in a beautiful 14th century inn. This must include bracing walks, breath-taking scenery, delicious dinners and a substantial amount of good wine. Maybe a bit of shopping.
As Kurt Vonnegut asked: “If this isn’t good, what is?”
We come to this little Balearic island every year for a couple of weeks in the summer and it never disappoints. The weather is glorious and reliable, and I spend most of my time floating in the pool with a book and a glass of white wine.
The food is also heavenly — luscious Mediterranean tomatoes, creamy cheeses, dark, peppery olive oil, fresh seafood, crusty bread, perfectly salty olives, and on and on.
The little tapas bar at the top of the hill makes some of the best food I’ve ever tasted and I am seriously thinking of kidnapping the chef and forcing him to hand over his recipe for their patatas bravas sauce.
I had the very good sense to invite a dear friend to accompany us on holiday. Not only is she an excellent cook, but she is also an enthusiastic one and as big a fan as I am of shopping in foreign supermarkets. Somehow the novelty makes a boring everyday errand into a bit of an adventure.
I have been eating and drinking whatever I feel like and I feel fabulous. Not one teeny bit of regret. Salud!