Today I’ve been doing a lot of nothing. I woke up feeling rancid. I didn’t have to do any work today though joyfully. So I cancelled my social appointments and stayed in to pamper myself. Sometimes that’s allowable. Talking is low on my list of fun things to do anyway, owing to the fact that one of the symptoms of this particular brand of seasonal death-flu is something I’ll describe as “cheesegrater throat.” It’s horrible. Swallowing is no fun at all. But it feels like it’ll be over and done with pretty quickly. Particularly as I’ve had the time to look after myself. Usually I just power through the sickness with my pockets crammed with tissues, doing my random jobs. Particularly if I’m acting. They call it “Doctor Theatre,” and it does work. There’s nothing like a shot of adrenaline to make you forget you want to crawl into a comfy hole and sing sad songs to yourself. You can always turn up for work. A dear friend told me of a time she went to an audition in central London, exiting the train at every stop to vomit. She made it, checked her teeth, walked into the studio, auditioned, walked out, made it to the bathroom to puke again, and got the job. Admittedly the part was a dying Victorian woman. But the fact she did it rings a bell with me.

No such demand today though thankfully. Today I wrapped up in a blanket and watched Ozark, and occasionally crawled back into my bed with a hot water bottle and sang sad songs to the cat. She joined in a bit and then started trying to hunt my feet under the duvet.

I’m definitely feeling better for my day of rest. It came on quickly, this lurgy. Yesterday I was bounding around as always. Tomorrow, maybe not. But surely I’ll be up and running in time for my birthday.

I made a reasonably involved curry for myself. “Feed a cold to starve a fever,” my mother always used to say. Now I’m just going to have to do everything in my power to make sure I don’t snore, lest I wake up spitting blood.

I have two guests at the moment. They run a company making high end websites for luxury item vendors. They periodically come and stay for a couple of nights to drum up business. Normally we have good conversations, but today I’ve been a pretty shit host. I spent the first two hours of the day communicating only in monosyllables while they ferried me ginger tea. A lot of ginger tea. Then I went back to sleep for an hour and when I woke up they’d gone to work. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be able to manage complex thoughts and sentences and higher forms of communication. I might even manage to cook something that isn’t just mine. Although I wouldn’t want to inadvertently infect them. I wouldn’t wish this throat on anyone.

For now it’s an early bed with my two warm fluffy things. Hot water bottle and insane cat. She just ran into my room, leapt on my bed and pounced on my hot water bottle. I think she thinks it’s a rival for my attention. She’d be right. Hot water bottle doesn’t try to eat my feet while I’m sleeping.



Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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