Woke up in the middle of the night shivering and shaking with a blinding headache.
Staggered downstairs to forage for pain relief to discover that the mental note I had made to buy Nurofen two weeks ago had not been noted. Remembered that I usually keep a pack in the glove compartment of the car. Considered dragging my sorry self outside, the car is only a few feet from the front door but may as well have been parked in Eastbourne for all the chance I had of making it there.
Considered making a cup of tea, no milk. Took my glass of water back to my room and tried to get comfortable. Unable to get my head into a position that aleiviated the pain at all. Wondered where this had come from as I was in perfect health when I went to bed last night.
Got to thinking that it’s at times like these that I really miss having a man around. Somebody to make you a Lemsip when you’re poorly. Quickly remembered that most men, on hearing you are struck down with the lurgy in the middle of the night, would roll over and go back to sleep leaving you to fend for yourself anyway.
Got gradually worse during the day and at this point can report that I feel as though someone has unscrewed the top of my head and poured porridge into it.
Called my Mother to obtain some much needed sympathy. She told me it sounded like I had contracted some strange, politically correct variety of man-flu. She added that she wished she had the time to be ill.
The kids (although I personally suspect that the walking petri dishes are in some way to blame for my current condition) have been very sweet. Annabelle made me some of her toast-surprise this morning (the surprise being that there was no butter on it and it seemed to be torn rather than cut).
About lunchtime I got a call from an agency who have a job interview lined up for Friday. Hesitant to commit as it is highly likely that I will, in fact, be dead by then. Optimistically agreed to present myself at 9.30am on Friday.
Made mental note to buy more Nurofen while I’m out.