Only I haven’t been there – I am quarantined at my sister’s as I have the norovirus. Henry’s had a bad day with meds-refusal, most of it spent in hospital with nurses forcing two nasal gastric tubes down his throat and all of the retching, choking and vomiting that entails. John sounds like he’s ready to collapse. Been feeling like blogging all day but I don’t have many words in me. I do have some F Scott Fitzgerald words in my head that have been sloshing around for ages, from The Cut Glass Bowl:
“You see I am fate, it shouted, “and stronger than your puny plans. And I am how-things-turn-out and I am different from your little dreams, and I am the flight of time and the end of beauty and unfulfilled desire; all the accidents and imperceptions and the little minutes that shape the crucial hours are mine. I am the exception that proves no rules, the limits of your control, the condiment in the dish of life.”
I feel a bit better just writing that down. God bless FSF. God bless Henry. Oh, sorry – I know we don’t do God.