Sneeze, wheeze, cough, splutter. Whinge, grumble, moan, mutter.
I, dear reader, have a cold. A-TISH-OO. Apologies. Do wipe the screen. I am in that state of poorly where I am not quite ill enough to be in bed, but grotty enough to make the days long and the air feel thick like treacle.
What improves this situation no end is that small chap also has a cold. And feels grotty and irrational. We are a delightful, slightly sweaty, lounge bound duo of doom.
I am making soup. That will cure us right? I want to lie down and feel sorry for myself, by am forbidden by my tiny and irascible employer ( I use that term very loosely. If he was my employer he would have to give me sick pay. Or any pay at all for that matter.)