Recovering over a continued lazy weekend

I thought this cough thing was signed off. Couldn’t quite make sense of how it happened so quickly. It was just retreating momentarily before another advance. I’ve been wheezing all day to the extent that Brian was worried enough about me that he not only bought me but made me a lemsip. It was very comforting, and the paracetamol is a wonderful edge removal device. I’m off to make myself another one as the evening closes in and the manflu tries once more to dominate my thinking.

The cats have been exceptionally good company while I’ve been feeding sorry for myself. They are hot so they don’t want cuddles but they want to stick their faces in your face and generally make cute noises. It can be a healing thing when you feel sorry to have a stupid catface in your mouth. No licking my hair though at 4am, dammit.

I had a hot bath. I’m a glutton for it. Here we are on the hottest day of the year and at noon this idiot has run a bath with nothing but hot right up to the overflow and is topping it up with only enough cold that getting into it won’t flay the skin from his bones. I wanted to sweat out this thrice damned beastie in my bloodstream. This tonsilfucker. It won’t get any further down, I’m fighting it with rest and steam and solid food. Gotta be in a field soon for a few nights. Festival season. Happy memories.

Highlights of the day: a chance to chat to Lou and a tiny walk around the local streets, feeling sorry for myself and tired. The dishwasher is broken so I used that as an excuse (less washing up) to order Burger and Lobster from Burger and Lobster, and have it carried to my door my someone on a bike. Dreams again soon. Much organising to do with the securing of cues etc. Rest now. Festival Al was in younger than this Al. Gonna keep an eye on my endurance and look after myself. Rather than order £150 worth of max strength pills, some buffers and sinks and grounders and a little bag of MD, I’m just gonna get a nice new sleeping bag and a tent, a foldyout table and a wind up lantern. Maybe some coconut milk.

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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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