Why, oh why do I always have a cold?
This one won’t go away, and keeps relapsing just as I think it’s getting bored. Woke up this morning in the unfortunate condition of one who has had to sleep open-mouthed in order to remain breathing, and, as a result, my already-sore throat had become drier than a blacksmith’s boot. “Urrrrrghhhhhh,” I said with some difficulty, “Urrrrrghh”. Kat raised her head inquisitively from the other end of the bed. “Aa-aaa,” I croaked, in a genuine effort to say “Kat”. She looked disdainfully at me and went back to sleep, at which point I realised that it was 4.30am.
I lay there, coughing and moaning, for 3 hours.
By the time I got Dirk and Jay bundled into the car, my voice had returned, bringing with it a rather severe headache. I sat dazedly at the end of the road, waiting to turn out on to the Grove Road but not actually waching the traffic for an opportunity to do so. Dirk, agitated at having spotted many such opportunities, eventually gave me a helpful prompt. “GO, GO, GO!!” he yelled suddenly. Startled but obedient, I went. He repeated this instruction at two roundabouts and a dual carriageway.
It’s quite a helpful thing to have in your car for when your brain’s not funtioning properly due to persistent illness. A DirkNav. As I negotiated my way through the maze of roadworks that is Pennybridge, I worried about how I was going to get to work once he was no longer in the car. Some days, your brain is just too fuzzy to drive. Not that I often drive my brain.
“Oh, look,” said Jay as we neared the gym, “there‘s where you get the babies.” “What?!” I spluttered in confusion. Dirk leaned forward. “That shop we just passed was called The Baby Shop,” he explained. Jay shrugged. “I always wondered where babies came from,” he said contentedly.