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The other day we were flying home from an awesome trip to Colorado, as mentioned a few posts ago and the pictures from which will be featured in the next series, Lord willing.
I've always been a huge James Herriot fan, and am now into my third reading of the core books - All Creatures Great and Small, All Things Bright and Beautiful, All Things Wise and Wonderful, and The Lord Hath Made Them All. I saw the first three of those bundled for sale in iBooks, so bought the lot and now have them handy on the iPad. As stated, this is my third reading; the first time was during my college years in the early '80's, next was in the early 90's when Andrew was small, and now in the late 2010's. Though I remember the essence of most of the stories, each time it's been like a fresh reading complete with tears in some places and gut-splitting laughter in others.
In fact, it was on this flight from Colorado that I got my family quite concerned that the gut-splitting laughter might lead to real harm. We were on the descent into Houston while I was into the first Grier story, when the young James Herriot was forced by a neighboring vet to don a wet suit solely for the purpose of handing his boss-for-the-day a pessary during the post-op phase of treatment for a cow in distress. When the predictable wave of laughter first began to washed over me it was merely a nuisance to Chenjean and Allison, as we were surrounded by other passengers, from which it was impossible to hide the mirth. Unfortunately for them I was only halfway through the story at that point, so the intensity and depth of my laughter was bound only to increase before it was all over.
Well, the family didn't want to wait that long. In another minute or so I was doubled over, pounding my leg, trying hard to avoid slapping the seat in front of me instead. The girls began to plead with urgency, "Please don't read any more!" In the midst of this uncontrollable surge, and to my amazement, Chenjean even reached for my glasses, threatening to yank them from my head knowing that I can't read without them. I managed to fend the effort off and finished the story, barely, before we cruised in for a landing. Exhausted, I leaned back, wiped the tears once more from my eyes, and said a prayer to one long gone, "Thank you, Alf Wight, for making me laugh again!"
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