So, last night, not too ill. Maybe spending four hours in a smoky bar was not the best idea for a healthy throat but it was still an OK night
I guess, even though I could not remember that the line is "soundlessly collateral and incompatible".
This morning, also, not too ill! Any slight hangover was cunningly targeted by the sneaky consumption of a frankly impressive amount of water during the night, and I was actually alert enough to answer my phone in time when my mum rang (I often do not manage this and she chooses to assume I have singlehandedly demolished the entire mobile network in the spirit of anarcho-syndicalism, rather than that I am just a bad daughter). I had a bit of a cough down the phone at her and she was gratifyingly sympathetic.
At lunchtime Dawny whisked Rach and I away to Pizza Hut because apparently she no longer has The Flu, now she is just 'hungry' (actually it might have been this all along, now I think about it). Now I am the one with The Flu although this does not seem to have done too much to my ability to gossip, or eat cheesy bread fingers. I think I must have looked a bit sickly though because my housemates spared me the usual argument about tipping!
This afternoon: DEATH. I fell asleep after Pizza Hut, although apparently not so asleep that I was not coughing loudly enough to irritate Emma (sorry Emma). When I woke up I did that thing that people always do when they wake up from invalid-sleep and panicked that I had slept through several days when in fact it had only been a few hours. I got dressed in a very confused outfit and tried to have a trip onto campus before I realised that it was not next week, it was just dark.
So now my throat is too big for my neck, my head is about four feet behind where it should be (and inhabited by a rabbit), my joints are made of poor-quality MDF and rusty nails and we are running out of Beecham's All in One sachets. I am the worst patient ever because I hardly ever get ill (and let's face it I am not even really that ill now!) and so when I do I am ten kinds of more dramatic about the whole thing than anyone else.
Why couldn't this have happened during Reading Week when I wasn't really doing anything apart from lying in bed and drinking whisky anyway? Bad timing, immune system!
Bad timing.
