Basil got an airing, and I got stitches removed, but there’s still no cycling allowed just yet.
I took him with me to the doctor’s office, on the chance we’d be spung from this loathsome purgatory, but no such luck.
Afterwards, Basil posed under a grape arbor, but this is not what he’d like to be doing.
We’re both feeling grumpy and dissatisfied. This is no way to spend a summer.