C is for cold

Do I wear a mask on the ward or simply stay away until I have got rid of my cold? Not sure about that, so I’ll probably ask the senior nurse.

I’m reading Helen Macdonald’s H is for Hawk. The writing and its subject matter are unusual. Falconry and bereavement are an odd combination, but this personal account of the devastating loss of the author’s father, and how she was drawn to acquire a goshawk at a time of emotional turmoil, is a brilliant literary journey of the mind.

No Boris bike for me today. Lemsip and raptors are on the menu.

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