boredom

Geoffrey and I are still recovering from the dreaded lurgy. We're not sure if we've had "swine-style flu", or just bog-standard, or just "bad colds". Either way, we've barely moved from the fireside for about a week. But we must be getting better because we've started to get bored. Readers will know that we don't have a telly or even a wireless. We do know about these things, and how people fill their time staring at other people capering around in little boxes blaring away in a corner of the room - or as Apsley and Cherry have theirs, nailed foursquare to the wall. But we can't enjoy such pleasures as we don't have leccy.
No. We have to entertain ourselves, the old-fashioned way. Sometimes we might take the old volume of Tennyson or Browning from the mantelshelf and read aloud to one another. Sometimes we might have a game of whist - although not often as that tends to get Geoffrey awfully worked up. He's a terrible loser. Sometimes we might whittle away at a piece of driftwood, fashioning some mythical creature from the bare wood. (actually, no, we've never done that.)
Mostly we just sit and chat aimlessly while enjoying our pipes and madeira, and wait contentedly for the odd visitor to arrive. And that's precisely what we've been doing for the past week. So why on earth are we bored? I wouldn't go so far as to say we're bored out of our minds, or bored rigid, it's more..well, I don't know...
"We're fed up, Tuppy!" declares Geoffrey, bursting willy nilly into my train of thought without a care in the world or a by your leave. "Let's plan a holiday!"
"But where should we go?"
"How about a health spa?"
"Don't be ridiculous Geoffrey! your mind must have been affected by the flu. Snap out of it, please!" Health spas indeed!
But he's got a point. They say a change is as good as a rest. Perhaps it's time for us to get the old coracle out and head across the seas again - although I don't think I could face the Flannan Isles so soon after the last fiasco...(see previous posts)