Loch Lomond lorry

I am not exactly hungover when I wake, but I am not at the top my game either. My sore throat has returned with a vengeance, and I am out of Tyrozet, so I settle for paracetamol and a Swiss lozenge.

Once the house surfaces and the various breakfasts are consumed, we talk work. It has to be done. And it is useful.

I am no longer going to visit Tarbert. My tenant is still in hospital and his daughter is unable to get time off work. So I head home and am embroiled in an Easter travel nightmare on the shores of Loch Lomond. A lorry has slewed off the road, blocking a lane. The southbound queue is bearable, but northbound they are queuing pretty much all the way from Luss to Tarbet - five miles or more.

I have two sales calls to make on the way home. Dodgy signal means that I'm late to one of them, but no matter.

Mike is working the digger. Claire is sick, so is Angus. Nick is recovering from yesterday's 6 hour cycle ride. Stuart and Mandy have been and gone, leaving me a massive Easter egg.

I take Angus into Edinburgh for jitsu, and visit Gilbert. At home, we dose up on honey & lemon and go to bed. Sleep. That's what we need.

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