Beef tea, rump steak and beer

Hutton brought a brisk sawbones who peered and prodded at my stitches, dosed me with jalup, refused my demand for brandy to take away the taste, but agreed I might have a rump steak instead of the beef tea which they'd been spooning into me in my unconscious state. I told Hutton to make it two, with a pint of beer, and when I'd attended to them and was propped up among my pillows, pale and interesting, he elaborated on what he already told me.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.162, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Don't mend as quickly

           When you’re past the fifty mark, you don’t mend as quickly as you used to. For on thing, you don’t want to; where once on a day you couldn’t wait to be off your sick-bed rampaging about, you’re now content to lie still and let any handy ministering angel do their stuff. When I was a brat of a boy I went through hot hell in Afghanistan, had a fort collapse on me, and broke my thigh—a few weeks later I was fit enough to gallop an Afghan wench with my leg in a splint and old Avitabile egging me on, and get beastly drunk afterwards. Not at fifty-three; if they’d paraded the Folies Bergère past me a month after Little Bighorn I’d have asked for bread and milk instead, and damn little of that in case it over-excited me.

Flashman and the Redskins, pp.330-31, Pan Books edition, 1983.

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My word?

‘As I understand it,’ says I, ‘your word is pledged already.’

‘My word? Will that heal a cut throat? I talk of what is; I expect Elfistan Sahib to do the same.’

Flashman, p.191, Pan edition, 12th printing, 1979.

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Flashman, Flashman quotes.