I’ve been struck down with a dose of the most virulent strain of man-flu. And I won’t hear otherwise…
I got stuck in Dublin last week, as it was being battered by Storm Emma and the ‘Beast from the East’. Cue several cancelled flights, cabin fever as I got stuck in my hotel and a fair bit of frustration.
I left my hotel at midday Saturday and eventually got home to the apartment in London at 9:30pm. Over 24hrs later than planned. Not a great use of a Saturday, you have to admit. I was due to run a half-marathon on Sunday morning and 9am, but as soon as I got home, I knew this was a non-starter. I felt rough and I felt tired.
And boy am I glad I skipped it.
Just a few days later and I’m laid up in bed with a rotten dose of the lurgy. I have: a raging temperature, sore throat, shivers and sweats (lovely), aching joints and an exhausting cough. I don’t have: a voice. It evaporated completely yesterday, in the middle of a Skype call with a client. She was very understanding, but it was still very frustrating. And painful.
I got out of bed this about 11am to take a shower and shortly afterwards, I managed to have some soup. Less than twenty minutes later, I was back in bed, feeling like I’d just run a marathon. Very shortly after that, I was fast asleep. I didn’t even have the luxury of getting dressed! I suppose it saves on laundry…
So I’m still in bed, feeling ever so slightly better after another sleep, but still coughing like a smoker. @TheFrankFlyer brought me home some whiskey last night (neither of us drink it) and I had a hot whiskey before bed. This really helped me sleep.
So I’ve just made another one and anticipate another restless nap after that.
I had to cancel bunch of things today as I just couldn’t see myself going into the office. I’m due to fly to Berlin tomorrow for our anniversary weekend (five years today since our civil partnership ceremony) and I’m desperate to feel better before tomorrow morning.
More sleep. More whiskey.