Two things
I’ve come down to the farm for ten days of rest and recuperation; a month of The Covid Talks and guess what? I’ve caught covid, or something like it. I feel rubbish. Continual ache in the back of my neck, a headache, nausea and an air of despair - if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck it’s probably a duck. So here I am, in the blissful quiet of the farm where I was due to be anyway. I’d booked it in for B’s reading week and an estate meeting brought me down on Wednesday; it didn’t seem worth going back for a few days and then covid struck and I’m grateful the Gods of my diary planned…
The skinny
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