Swine Flu.

I thought I felt ill.

Night before last you could have fried an egg on me.  Until I threw all the blankets off.  Then you could have made ice cream just by giving me a glass of milk to hold.  The toilet is never far from my thoughts and doing the hacking cough is dangerous to say the least.

It’s much worse for the poor web manager who also has it because he’s got swine flu, ten days previously with nothing to eat and seven bloody tooth sockets.

On the plus side it could be slimming.  I have no desire to eat anything but I’d quite like to lick salt.  I’d also like to roll on the carpet, groaning.  No I couldn’t be bothered.  You know a few posts ago when I wrote that when lying in the gutter you should look at the stars?  Well you can forget that.  Everything was going in and out of focus.

There may not be Knickerbocker glory tomorrow.  I’m too ill to cook.  Last night I had a moment of lucidity and dragged myself out of bed to put Sunday lunch for the other half (who was out, at a party) in the oven ready to turn on.  Before I succumbed to this I went shopping and laid in provisions to avoid the bit where your man turns up at your bedside and repeatedly says your name until you gain consciousness and then poses the cross and whiny question ‘What am I supposed to eat?’

Oh eating, yes, I remember that.  Not with any great fondness.

Meanwhile could you please entertain yourself by reading the archive?  Most of the funny bits are filed under the Parrot.  I would read it myself but I am sweating so much my fingers are sliding on the keyboard and I keep hitting all the wring lotters.  I may bee two il too rite.

Er, swine flu.  Poor Jane, poor, poor little web manager… poor pigs!