Unexpected Turns: Bang!

up.

Angus was feeling slightly better. He slid from the bed and stood for a while, trying some deep breaths.

"I think its passing?" he said with a slight smile, "Do you feel any better dear?"

"Yes," said his wife, "I believe I do."

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"Just a cup of tea thanks dear."

Angus made his way to the kitchen. He still had on all his clothes. Shirt and trousers, and boots laced up. He lit the fire in the big, black coal range and put the big, black kettle on the ring, then he went to the window to look at his farm. It was already late in the morning and the sun was quite high.

"They put a man on the moon," he grumbled, "But they can't make a cure for the flu."

He scratched his black, greasy hair, then he scratched himself all over.

"I could do with a bath," he said, "I smell worse than the pigs!" He sat down and waited for the kettle to whistle. He knew he was too old to be a farmer. He and his wife. They should have retired years ago. Both of them were pushing on eighty, and they knew the farm was falling to pieces around them. They couldn't cope with it for much longer.

Several hens went by outside, hungrily turning their heads upwards to peer at the window.

"You can scratch for your food," said Angus, "Like all the wild hens do!" He didn't know if there were any wild hens in the world. It was just one of his dry jokes.

He got up again and made two cups of tea, then he went back to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed until both cups were finished.

"I think I'm on the better side of this," said Mrs. Magill, "I think I can get up and do some washing at least."

"I'll give you a hand."

"Thanks."

Mrs. Magill put her empty cup on the little table beside the bed. She stood up and looked in the mirror.

"What a mess I look!" she said, smoothing back her