He gave his scalp the kind of good, two-handed scratching that mussed all of his hair up, right from the back of his head up to the top of his forehead and then back around over both of his ears taking in everything in between. It didn’t help. He was still as discombobulated as ever, so he flattened his hair down again and sighed.
“Why did I have to eat so much gosh-darned chocolate!”
The heatwave in York made him feel as if he was sitting inside a giant air fryer.
“Pathetic. That’s what you are: pathetic.”
He considered emptying his stomach but dismissed the gesture as futile. The chocolate binge was yesterday’s news. Today was after-effects day. Today was a day for feeling … what! Amorphously uncomfortable? Unpromisingly despondent? Gratuitously demotivated?
“Well, there’s no help for it. What’s done is done. I might as well make the most of a spoilt day and enjoy it as best I can.”
He got up, walked over to the cupboard and took out the family-sized bar of M&S Swiss Chocolate (Extra Fine Milk), popped it in the freezer and leaned against the kitchen counter to wait the seven and a half minutes it would take for the chocolate the reach the correct consistency.
At least he had that much restraint.