Raining cats and dogs on market day

Wake at eight, the bronchitis is now obvious, my voice is deep and hoarse and coughing brings up unpleasant smelling green phlegm. It is cloudy outside and I have no dog walking or taxi duties today, so make a full English breakfast and eat this at leisure in the garden room, washed down with copious amounts of tea. After showering and dressing, phone Felicity and explain that I won't be sharing my germs at the Poppy Seed this morning and then read Geza Vermes, on early Christianity for an hour. Towards noon I drive into town to collect a book that I ordered from the library, parking at the leisure centre and walking via the Minster into town. It begins to rain heavily, but fortunately I have a golf umbrella with me and remain dry. After collecting my book, another Vermes, "The Gospel of Jesus the Jew", I walk through town to the market, and as I do so, the heavens open, so fierce is the downpour that it clears the streets. People are herded into shops and doorways, or squeeze into already crowded cafes. Despite my large umbrella, the bottom of my jeans get wet, and when I arrive in Saturday market, the place is deserted. I drink a large, black, Americano in Perk-u-later, which despite the naff name, is OK. The owner is a Londoner and a West Ham fan and has a large picture of Trevor Brooking on the wall and a signed shirt. I read Vermes until the rain stops and then make my way back through town to my car, and then drive home. There is another downpour as I get out of the car and into the house, and I have to hang my raincoat out to dry in the bathroom. Later, I make a lamb pilaf with a couple of old capsicums, an onion and my last frozen lamb chop and lamburger, which I dice and fry with chile, garlic, ginger and coriander powder. To this I add the chopped onion and peppers, a cup of paella rice and half a pint of boiling water soaked with saffron. When the rice has absorbed all the water, I chop a few sprigs of fresh coriander, picked from the garden and sprinkle it over the rice, as a finishing touch. Frugal Dougal is my alter ego, as long as you have herbs and spices you can make a meal out of anything! After lunch I read and finish the Vermes book I collected from the library. It's a slim volume, less than eighty pages. It's thesis is that Jesus was a charismatic Galilean, Jewish teacher and holy man, whose teachings were primarily concerned with the existential relationship between ourselves and God and with each other. The translocation of the early church from its Jewish foundation into a Greco Roman environment has, in Vermes view, overlaid a lot of platonic philosophy and Greek mysticism on the essential teaching. Of course this finds resonance with me, because this stripped down Jesus, is much closer to Buddhist essentials. Although Jesus could never be said to be dispassionate! Later on I eat a few oatcakes and some smoked cheese and watch a large, white, barn owl hunting in the field, as darkness falls.
The main consequence of my illness is a reduction in energy levels and by half past nine I am ready to go to bed.