Last night I remembered I’d left John Wayne on the roof. Apologies for that, John, but thanks for another good job.
John and I first became acquainted back in 1980 when I had a five hour operation on my spine. I was scared and thought how John had been so brave in his final months which was why I was thinking of him as I floated away under the aneasthetic.
I woke in a side ward. The nurse said they’d moved me from post-op because I was making so much noise, sharing a bottle of red-eye with John Wayne.
Since then I’ve called upon him when needed. I visualise him looking after the house when we are away. That’s why he was on the roof. Last week I left him lying on the ridge tiles, squinting into the sunshine with his rifle at his side. And, when we arrived home, I meant to say thank-you for looking after the place but I forgot until yesterday. So I thanked him profusely and allowed him to de-materialise, until next time.