45
Cyril Copeland drew in deep lungfuls of the crisp morning air as he marched across Mildenheath Common after Bongo.
The dog was having a whale of time, as well he might after five days without a walk. Cyril was starting to feel a slight twinge in his ankle occasionally, but it was pretty well strapped up and the doctor had told him he could go back to walking Bongo from this morning onwards.
His ankle wasn’t the only thing that seemed to be improving. The gurgling in his intestines told him the most awkward effect of the painkillers he’d been given was starting to wear off. Fortunately, he’d only been on them for three days.
He glanced at his watch. 7.03am. If he was lucky, and if Bongo got a good run out, he’d be home by half past, which would make it… He took his notebook out of hi
