It’s a weird experience feeling ill. I mean most of me is ok but I feel like spewing most of the time and really tired and a tad dizzy. I’m mixing up my words so much that my spell checker has fallen out with me and has gone home to its wife and weans moaning about how bad an employer I am and I don’t blame it. As I type I’m doing that swallowing thing you do when you don’t want to be sick, trying to coax my body into feeling ok.
Well that didn’t work. Tea and soup just crashed the party backwards through my teeth at 100 miles an hour. Now my head is starting to throb. Very strange. I wonder why we have to feel bedraggled and worn out while we’re ill? I was ok when I woke up, made breakfast, read some Brontë, all feeling dapper. Then round about noon I felt a bit peaky. I picked up my mum form the beautician where she’d been having here eyebrows tortured and went to get some bread and milk and cigarettes and on driving away from the store I announced: “I’m feeling a bit ropey.”
Still, all was ok. I had my soup, sneezed a few times, the odd cough here and there then suddenly whilst watching last Sunday’s Top Gear I felt like I’d contracted cholera. I suppose those small symptoms before were warning signs but I hardly expected an onslaught as swift as this. I can see me retreating to bed as now my muscles are getting that achy way, right into the bone. Aye, that seems like the best plan.
More tomorrow...
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