No, not the lawyers I have retained to sue every sniffler with whom I have come into contact over the last two weeks, including my beloved but disgustingly infectious family; not two of the original Nine Dwarves; not the opening line of a seasonal song. Snotty and grotty is how I am feeling today.
That is despite my dear friend Pam leaving a gift bag of Vitamin C outside my front door. She didn’t want to disturb my rest so she sent me a message to say it was there, when she got home. My head was so mushy that I was delighted to read the email, but I didn’t think to open the front door and collect the bag until several hours later, once I’d had a nap. Fortunately, the rain sweeping across the country to complement my streaming eyes and nose didn’t start until after I’d picked it up.
The bag contained a bottle of orange juice, various citrus fruits and – thoughtfully – a bottle of hand sanitiser.
Viv wondered how I’m managing to blog when I’m so poorly. Unfortunately, a nasty bug-come-head cold leaves one with a sort throat, spotty nose, banging headcase, temporary loss of blabber control, flirting teeth and much for brains, but there’s nothing wrong with my tiepin fingers, so I have no excuse not to bolg.
I am here until further notice or until the Hub protests one too many times at having to clean the keyboard and monitor.
The answer to yesterday’s pictogram:
ham still hill hand knot talking 2 ewe.
I am still ill and not talking to you.
Knot true, of course: I’ll be talking to you in court.
This may come as a surprise to you, my dear readers, but I am not particularly good at being ill.