Mr M and fields of mud

I did not get to write my diary entry last night as Mr M has got weaker and has been given only a couple of days to live, so we headed off to see him and collect his son who had spent the day travelling up on trains from London. So we had to battle up the track to Mr M’s house in the dark and rain, but the trusty car made it again, although I am not sure that the trusty car is entirely happy about going to Mr M’s house.  We will be heading off to see Mr M again a bit later on, so we are slightly in limbo waiting for some news and making a few phone calls.

At present it is rather muddy outside so it is difficult to do anything such as poke about in holes with pointy sticks as the holes are full of water and/or mud. The ground is also far too muddy to chase Zombies about and wave pointy sticks at them, particularly as I do not really possess suitable mud fairing footwear to run about in mud.  I am told that the hospital would not entirely be happy if I turn up to see Mr M covered in mud and water with a pointy stick with bits of Zombie hanging off it and they might make me wait outside.

I have also got my White Falcon out of its case (it is not a falcon but a guitar) as it is some time since it has been out of its case and guitars do like to see some daylight and get a chance to stretch their legs (sorry pegs or is it strings). It is entirely the wrong guitar to take into a muddy garden too as it is sort of the wrong colour and as near as damn it the diametrical opposite of mud.

I may return later depending on events and time.