Confused, feak and weeble

Confused, feak and weeble was how Mr Clipboard predicted I would feel by last evening after 2 diet days within 3 days as part of my 5:2 weight reduction programme, and he was not far wrong. In my weakened spoonerism induced state, I had still managed to drag myself around the 4 mile circuit through the Norfolk Estate and on the way back I saw that the tide on the River Arun was even higher than the day before. I took this picture which states the bleeding obvious, that the bridge is not navigable.

A bridge too far?

This time, the water was actually  flowing over the terrace of The (under) Waterside Cafe and into the towns drains, much to the consternation of some of the locals. With the spectacle over, and talking of spectacles, I managed to make it to my office to continue the research into my new project, the works of the late Bryan Blackburn, co writer of such classics as Welcome Home and Love is Blue. I mentioned this to an old school friend who popped round and he claimed that the blind chap from Peters and Lee had been offered surgery that could have restored his sight, but he refused, believing that his income as a blind singer might have been adversely affected. (Did you see what I did there earlier with the references to spectacles?) I caught myself saying that he should have seen sense before realising that it was a bit inappropriate, and resolved then and then not to make mention of it in this column.

I also thought I should avoid mentioning that I also secured another, soon to be happy, customer for the services of Currencies Direct yesterday, the second in two days. They seem to be like buses, you don’t see one for ages, then two come along together. So far I have not been able to think of how to link that to Peters and Lee.

It is in this regard that I must venture north today, as far north as Kingston upon Thames. Much further north and I would probably experience vertigo, as opposed to horizontigo, which I think might be the same, but on a different plane. Then I must further venture to Weybridge for yet another meeting. It’s that bloody bus syndrome again, they all come at once when you have waited for one for ages in vain.

So, still feak and weeble as I write this having collapsed into bed at 10pm, I am planning my trip but must remember not to go near any drains this morning in case I slip through the grill, and be very careful if ever I am sideways on, as I think my shadow will disappear, so thin have I become. Help will shortly be at hand though, a birthday lunch on Friday at Papardelle in Arundel with Colin The Pirate and the lovely Sandra, his sultry goddess. I have yet to determine his age, as his hair, what little of it that remains, is a curious grey colour. I am guessing late 70’s but as he still works for a living, well I use the term loosely, as he works in management in the health service, I may have over estimated a tad.

Then, the combination of a trip to Cheltenham on Saturday for a dinner, after which it will be back for Sunday lunch locally, should surely undo any privations that have attacked my frame in the last few days. I know That Nice Lady Decorator and I are not in full agreement on this one, but I know this can be reconciled. I just need to start the diet again on Monday.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News