|This afternoon I organised a delightful lunch to welcome Bernard, my photographer, back home. You will doubtless remember that he has had some health issues and was visiting the UK and staying at The Devil’s Dyke Health Spa.
It is unsurprising that following a tazering and being shot in the chest with a carrot, he should need extensive rehabilitation. However, the Devil’s Dyke facility, according to their internet profile, specialises in heart, digestive and gastrointestinal tract treatments, including extensive use of colonic irrigation. Ali, my gardener, informs me that this has nothing to do with the irrigation he is dutifully installing in my greenhouse, in expectation of a warm summer.
Sylvester, Sebastian and Bernard all joined me, as well as Amanda, who ‘popped in’ slipping past Hannibal and the security system. That woman is like a ninja. I should point out that she is an old schoolfriend of my wife, and often appears in the hopes of finding her. Unfortunately my wife is travelling at present, studying flora of the Limpopo.
Amanda was most upset. It turns out her therapist, who she’s been seeing twice a week for the last two years, committed suicide two days ago. This is not made easier by the fact that her previous therapist did the same thing some years ago. At the funeral, it turned out that Amanda was the only person attending, and likely his only client.
“But somehow I feel like it’s my fault,” she said tearfully.
“Nonsense,” I said. “It’s his job to talk you off the ledge, not the other way around.”
“But twice! That’s quite a coincidence, don’t’ you think?”
“Well, not really. I’m sure lots of therapists go that way,” I replied.
“Apparently he leaves a very extensive library of self help books.”
Returning to our lunch, Bernard enthused about his trip to the UK. As we sipped a light chardonnay he told us as much as one can about colonic irrigation at the dinner table. Sebastian asked about the exercise, and probed him about the diet.
Bernard had brought a couple of bottles of Devil’s Dyke bottled water, one of which Sylvester picked up and inspected.
“Devil’s Dyke Water,” he read from the label, holding is at arms length to be able to read it properly. His eyesight is not what it once was. “It say’s here, it’s a great tonic, and good for digestion and flatulence.”
Amanda seemed excited, and asked to see.
“I should try this,” said Sylvester enthusiastically with a laugh.
There was an awkward pause, and then Bernard said, “I think they mean it’s good for stopping flatulence, Sylvester.”
“Oh,” he replied, a little disappointed. “Why would…” and his voice tailed off.
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Have a wonderful week.