I started the week unconscious in a restaurant on Dominion Road, but it’s been nothing but improvement since then and I am currently looking out on a stream and dappled autumn leaves in a beautiful little corner of Lower Moutere.
Always with the drama, eh. What I mean is I blacked out in the gathering warmth of Golden Steamboat restaurant and spoiled a perfectly nice Sunday night out with our daughter and her boyfriend. What I now understand better about my delicate metabolism is: if you don’t keep putting water in him, he falls over, it’s not just a booze thing. I came around to hear them saying ambulance, but readers, no ambulance was required and I have since flown south without incident, have shown no further adverse symptoms, am drinking copious amounts of water and that seems to be doing the trick Also I remain COVID-negative.
My host is Hazel Nash, who you will know from previous newsletters as the cool teacher who took our third form class up a mountain and who is once more a friend, thanks to readers of this newsletter, chiefly Gilbert van Reenen — hello Gilbert! — who read my account of her subsequent life and let me know: We know Hazel. We can put you in touch.
