On the way home today I saw a dead pigeon. It lay on its back, its wings slightly outspread. Blood haloed its head on the asphalt. "Oh no!" I said. For a moment, I was afraid it was Scroffy, but the colouration was wrong. Cars whizzed by as I stood and stared at the corpse. A man passed by me on the sidewalk, and he paused to look at me, and then at the dead bird. Then he shrugged and kept on walking.
When I got home, I saw Scroffy fluffed out and perched on the roof. I'm glad he's still kicking around.
My hoped-for rejuvenation is not happening. I'm getting more and more tired. The night of poor sleep is determined to kill my kung fu class tonight. I'm afraid I shall have to retire early to bed.
Guess what?