Inch became a light year, it was pathetic (Aimee Mann)

Cold Cold Cold - the sequel.

Long version:

So here I am, about to end the seven day cycle of last Wednesday's mild sore throat to raging razor blade can't swallow can't sleep can't talk nothing seems to work hellish raw red full on pain throat. 

Then the nose starts running. Usually.

Except this time it joined forces with the death on legs sore throat which has refused to play ball and get itself replaced with a drunny dose.

All looked dire until SWMBO (a.k.a. Nurse Jacky) said she had some antibiotics 'in the cupboard' that I should use until I got to the docs. 

You should know that SWMBO's collection of medicines, potions, bandages and first aid kit is almost the match of my father's collection when he was alive. And he was a chemist!

Anyway, after  five days the antibiotics either worked or I've survived the life cycle of a cold. By the time I got to the docs on Monday the sore throat felt in retreat so I stocked up on my flight medications as well (another story for another time).

Short version: I've had man flu.

What have I been doing during this enforced rest, I hear you ask?

• Looking in despair at my Fitbit step count - verdict: pathetic!
• Reading (finished the rest of the twelve Trigon Empire volumes, London Under, Tina Fey's Bossypants, started Richard P Feynman's The Meaning Of It All, Bill Bryson's The Road To Little Dribbling).
• Drinking endless cups of tea (the heat seemed to work, a bit, for about ten minutes then I needed another one).
• T.V. - caught up on recorded stuff SWMBO doesn't like (I have to make the most of the sympathy card when it's played  - shows like Fargo, all things sport, but, drat - would be an international break in the Premier League wouldn't it! Instead an endless parade of international rugby coaches saying 'like hell' to the English job - yawn)

Back in the harness at the brick factory making widgets today.

Slight cough and sniffle - Wozza