Just as I thought I was getting back in the saddle, managing to write a little more regularly, finding whispers of inspiration in the most curious of places and surprising myself with an astonishing ability to navel-gaze, the hours stood shivering at the weekend have left me bed-ridden. For five days. Five God-forsaken days.
Now don’t get me wrong I’m sure a week in bed sounds marvellous to some. Especially for those enjoying the company of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders. I daresay in less-phlegmy circumstances, I might have enjoyed the rest. I can say with some confidence I would have enjoyed the Cowgirls.
As it was, I have spent days and nights barking like a dog and then waking up sloshing in a pool of sweat. Again, not so bad if the cause had been a dozen girls with pom-poms but a load of germs partying in my chest is no real substitute.
But now I am up. The rabid barking cough as subsided into a more occasional volcano and my temperature has dropped from molten rock to smelly dog.
Definitely on the mend.
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