I am a walking statistic
This belated post comes with a Government Health Warning. Reading it may be contagious.
You can rest assured that it contains no mention of either the weather or Michael Jackson.
My recent absence was not as a result of hedonistic pursuits and copious consumption of alcohol…no. I had to cancel all that due to a minor operation in hospital – after which I was held hostage by the dreaded Swine ‘Flu pandemic – along with my husband and son. Some report that it isn’t too bad but that hasn’t been our experience. Cough!
So please don’t kiss me.
We were entertained when our pharmacist kindly delivered our Tamiflu antiviral medicine – he left it on the doorstep, then rushed off across the road before telephoning to say it was there – he didn’t even knock in case we opened the door. Unclean!
It may not be a clinical cure, but I can vouch for the remedial benefits of reclining on a cushion-plumped sofa with a whole bag of chocolate raisins. Sometimes I think I was born to suffer. And yes, (munch-munch) I’ve heard all the jokes, countless times.
Don’t forget to wash your hands with antiseptic after reading this.