Cramps and gripes

Wake at 1:30am again, but this time with an agonising cramp in my right thigh, it eases after I stand up and then bend my knees, but I can feel the muscle on a hair trigger, ready to twitch into spasm again. Gingerly I make my way into the kitchen, lick the back of my hand, sprinkle it with salt and then lick it off. After a few minutes the medicine works and the muscles relax, it is unusually cold, so put an extra duvet on the bed and then sleep until eight. The cramp was probably caused by working in the sun all day yesterday and losing electrolytes. When I eventually get up, its dry but cloudy, breakfast on cream cheese, smoked salmon, toast and coffee and then phone Pip to arrange to take the dogs and mow the lawn at Cherry. My wife tells me that Andrew's girls, Laura and Rebecca are there, but that it's OK to come. After washing and dressing, I arrive at about quarter past nine and take the dogs on the Westwood, Andrew takes them out, but doesn't let them off the lead, so they are happy to get a run. We see old Diane and her Westie, Rocky, as we head towards Black Mill and the retired policeman who picks up litter and his Jack Russell, Elvis. There is a cold Northerly wind and rain is forecast for lunch time, but our walk is mercifully uneventful. Back at Cherry, Andrew and the girls come out to chat to me as I mow the lawns, he is taking them swimming later. As I finish off, I have an attack of the gripes again, my stomach has been rumbling for the past couple of days, and I make the toilet in the nick of time. On the way home I call at the supermarket to buy rye bread and some cleaning products and then head home, arriving around midday. I feel tired, although I haven't done much, perhaps I'm just a little under the weather. Don't feel much like exercising, so make tea and beef sandwiches for lunch and then read until four, falling asleep for an hour in the armchair in the garden room. When I wake up, make more tea and bread and honey, (Honig fuer der Koenig), again. My stomach rumbles on and I finish Zafron's "Shadow of The Wind", my oldest grandson, Clement, is just back from Barcelona today, and the book is set in that City. I shall give it to him when I see him on Thursday.