Thursday, January 05, 2006

Sub standard.

I apologise for not posting, and have decided to clear up any rumours
which may, or may not, have been flying round - taking my inspiration
from none other than Charles Kennedy, and his dignified announcement
that -shock! - he may have had one whisky too many.
Now, now, once you have taken a moment to register this mindboggling
and, crucially, BRAND NEW piece of information, let's proceed to my
excuse for being a bit under-par of late.

The date: Christmas Day. The scene: my eldest sister's house. The
weapon: the nostrils of my middle nephew, the charming yet undeniably
snotty D, aged two and a half. Ah yes, having long ago been
established in family mythology as 'good with children', it seemed
that I had been appointed Person In Charge of Making Sure Three
Children Didn't Injure Themselves Or Eat the Baubles. Not an easy job,
when D's high spirits could be more uncharitably interpreted as ADD,
eldest nephew J, aged nearly 3, is cleverer than I am and O, at three
months old, can't bear to be put down. Or cuddled sitting down. And
weighs as much as, say, a generously-proportioned Christmas turkey
(something his mother, weirdly, drew attention too, saying in a
cutesy-baby-voice, "Ooo, you're sooo chubby-wubby, maybe we should put
yoooo in the oven!" before catching my expression of horror).

Anyway, one of thess miniature spawn of Satan, sorry, Little Angels,
sneezed all over my food, and my money's on D. Obviously, my Christmas
indulgence, combined with the diet of half of Michelle McManus (before
going on You Are What You Eat) and avoiding fresh air and exercise
since leaving school, has left me with the immune system of a newborn
rat. So of course I caught D's cold. In fact, I saw the cold, and
raised it sinusitis.

Still, there are consolations - despite having all the symptoms
described on NHS direct, I haven't yet got any of the complications,
which include the ever-charming "brain abcesses" - and it sounds so
much more impressive in conversation. So for now, I am living a
hermit-like life, leaving the house only to go to work, and with no
other entertainment than guessing what colour my mucus will turn next
(why does no-one else want to play that game with me?)

On that note, I'm off to the canteen. Not that I can taste anything,
of course. Normal service will be resumed once I regain use of all
five senses, and stop sleeping eleven hours a night....


Blogger Paul B said...

Get well soon... and for today I guess pale orange. I like these 'interactive' games on websites.

1/06/2006 10:07 am  
Blogger Paul B said...

And, you see - you badmouth Morecombe and Wise and your inner karma goes to pot. Hence the malingering lurgy.

Don't say I didn't warn you...;-)

1/06/2006 10:10 am  
Blogger Bourgeois Wife said...

Being ill is great. I recommend lemon and ginger, and piles of trashy fashion mags.

1/06/2006 11:06 pm  
Blogger Tamburlaine said...

You're going to work? But how generous of you - your colleagues will be only too glad to have your lurgy shared with them.

Brain abcesses, though, don't sound good. How gratifying that we can find out what awful complications can arise from the simplest of maladies. Lots of orange juice or Vitamin C is my recommendation - hope you feel better soon.

1/10/2006 9:31 am  

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