Thistles in the rocks

I had a bad migraine last night and wondered whether I would be fit to play tennis this morning. The headache had gone but I was lacking in energy so struggled a bit despite winning the match in the end. I spent some of the afternoon contacting various agencies and the police in the village way my builder lives. I was trying to ascertain whether he is spinning me a story or whether he is genuinely in hospital as nothing has happened for months. The police have been very helpful. He is indeed in the psychiatric hospital and they have suggested a couple of things I could do. I wish him well but, having paid a large sum out for materials, I have to try and find a solution.