Relapse

So Monday I woke up feeling unbelievably grim. At first I tried to persuade myself that if I could just get into the office for a few hours I could get what I needed done for tomorrow's major all-day meeting.

As I attempt to get up and realise that a) I'm running a temperature again, b) my joints are aching horrendously, c) the glands in my neck are swollen to the size of golf balls, d) I have no voice and e) I feel like utter shite; it starts to dawn on me that not only do I have no chance of going to work today, it will need a miracle to get me there tomorrow.

So I manage to croak a few instructions to my secretary, send an email covering meeting logistics for tomorrow and disappear back under the duvet feeling like death warmed up.

Tuesday is no better and Tuesday night brings no sleep as a constant hacking cough keeps me awake.

Wednesday morning is possibly the worst yet. I ring the office again; this is no 48 hour thing.

Man I feel like shite. The only thing keeping me going is sipping down Covent Garden soup.



The only things that bring any relief to my misery is the chocolate that Sally bought (diet be damned, I'm ill and it melts in the mouth) and the fact that I'm wearing in my bright pink pumps, which are just about bright enough to raise a faint smile.

Heaven knows I'm miserable now...

Dear lord I hope I haven't given this to anyone else. Sally Stuart, K etc - shovel those vitamins down.