The Pathetic Groans Of The Ill Man

I am in the grips of man flu.

Or at the very least a bit of a sore throat and occasional sneezing fits. But that totally sounds like man flu, doesn’t it?

I think, in the greater scheme of things, I’ve done really well to make it this far – nearly a whole year of being back on the peasant wagon on a regular basis, and mingling with the general public  – without being struck down by some terrible contagion.

But you won’t hear me complain about it. Not me. I’ll just groan occasionally and sniff pathetically. But complain? Never.

Not that it doesn’t feel more painful – mentally, at least – when things go wrong.

I left work this evening to come home. The bus did not show up. I did not have enough change for the other bus option that is available to me. And paying with a tenner is fine and all that because sometimes they do have change, but the worst fate in the world is to be stuck with a change voucher that only works on their buses…. it wasn’t worth the risk.

So I waited at my bus stop for about ten minutes. Long enough to conclude my bus wasn’t coming. I then thought long and hard about what to do and decided to go back to work and change my polymer money into metal money. So I could then catch the other bus.

So I did.

And when I got back from changing my polymer to metal, the bloody bus that I had been waiting for had magically turned up and was just leaving the stop.

Cue at least one groan of a pathetically ill person.

So I went for the plan B bus.

Which also didn’t show up when it should have. It disappeared off the digital display board.

Cue another pathetic groan.

I then decide that I will cut my bus-shaped losses and just wait for the 8pm bus home. It’s cheaper. It’s closer to the house. Sure, I have to wait longer but it balances out in the long run because I hadn’t had tea yet and decided that a Big Mac would be just the right level of lukewarm meat product to raise my flagging germ-filled spirits.

And just when I decided all that, my plan B bus turned up.

Bastard thing.

So I got on it. Because to walk away from a bus that has actually come is far different than to walk away from a bus that hasn’t come only to come back and find that it has come in the meantime. But I mean, yaay I’m going home and everything. But once you’ve decided you really fancy a Big Mac you really fancy a Big Mac, if you know what I mean.

I have not had a Big Mac.

Cue more pathetic groaning.