It’s caught me.
I’ve ushered in the new year with a cough and a tickly throat and now I’m full into the arms of man flu.
The most annoying thing about it – aside from the fact that everything aches, including my hair, and because it’s man flu I am legally obliged to milk it for all it’s worth – is that I went to Sainsbury’s to stock up on things to get me through the day at work – because I’m a bloody trooper – and purchased a hefty box of throat sweets.
And now, my throat is fine.
I started the afternoon at work and thought my voice might not make it through the first briefing, let alone the whole afternoon, and yet just thinking about taking a lozenge from the packet has seemingly cured me.
Of that at least.
Otherwise I feel like crap.
Carole has flown the coop and is sleeping in the spare bed, not wanting to get what I might have. I’ve taken tomorrow as a day off to lie pathetically on any furniture that will have me, occasionally moaning and hoping to be left alone.
And I’m tired. So this will do. I’m going to bed.