Dropping the ball - again

A bit of rain, so what. I am eating a most delicious peach while the little cat tries to decide whether to stay in or go out. The garden is shiny wet in all its glory, a very fat and noisy hedgehog has been licking the bowl I use to feed stray Ginger in recent nights and the most stunning dragon flies are trying to make up for the lack of butterflies. No butterflies, none at all. What is going on? Well, for starters, but...

Last night my sunny red haired child who is working in the halls of politics and diplomacy explained to me what the phrase drop the ball means. And no, it has nothing to with rugby.

I have been rereading - again - the information leaflet for the iron supplements this morning. I wish it would work faster but I suppose ten days is nothing. In the early hours of the mornings I speculate if have been hit by another yuk disease. The passing-out-while-sitting-in-a-meeting disease, the too-exhausted-to-sleep disease with the heavy arms and legs and the cold shivers on a hot day symptoms. There is a lot of reassuring murmur and guesswork coming my way. Your iron storage levels are extremely low almost non existing, probably due to a low impact source of internal bleeding, they tell me. Intestines, most likely. Not your stomach (oh thanks). We will schedule a colonoscopy, an ultrasound and some more tests to keep you entertained. No need to be alarmed, we keep an eye on things. In the meantime, you can do what you want as long as...

I know (yawn), don't overdo it. Overdo what? Life? How does one not overdo life? A bit like not eating too much? Not sleeping too much? Not thinking too much? Don't tell me, rest. This is so boring, so tedious.

Totally unrelated, some of the statues that watched me cycling past last week in Franconia: