It was a Saturday, the day after Claire and I visited Bloom Festival 2019. and I became ill. I have been down and up and back down with pneumonia since mid April. I should not have been up and about. After Bloom, Claire hinted ‘hospital’, and I hinted quiet, calm, meditated, diet, and conditioned controlled recovery. To me, hospital was hours sitting in barbaric torture in A&E with jarring noises, intense lights, verbal conversation in the language of internet trolls, and nothing to eat other than chocolate chip cookies and zero life coca cola. Once briefly seen by A&E doc, maybe a day or two in a bone twisting trolley parked in a draught corridor ... and still no food and a cup of tea. Please, wheel me into the Tree Labyrinth Garden and let me pass on from there instead. Next morning, I was still at Woodford, Dublin, Claire discovered a visiting doctor service online that could be paid for with our national health medical card, so she phoned to book one on my behalf.