Rude health

I am, generally speaking, in rude health (now where did that expression come from?) so I was unprepared for a stinking cold that somewhat blighted my weekend with my dear friend Av in Devon. We still had a good time, of course, but the place we stayed in was cold so we tended to dive into bed (not together) to keep warm. Still, we had lots to catch up on and had a few walks and even indulged in Christmas Karaoke in Teignmouth, a sight that left the locals speechless.

I also saw my mum who’s being very well looked after by her lovely carer, Sue, and it was good to see my friends Jon and Annie who managed to tease me mercilessly (Jon) as well as cheering me up.

Back home, and I sort of crumpled. All my energy must have gone out through my nose. By yesterday morning it was apparent that no way could I give the talk (on walks) I was due to give at Flushing Sailing Club, so I had to cancel that, cancel singing rehearsal, and retreat to bed.

And what a relief to sink under the duvet. Bliss. I still have to walk MollieDog of course, but it does me good to get some fresh air before crawling back into my warm pit.

“Someone should be looking after you,” said Mr B when he rang - he is 300 miles away.

As I don’t have much appetite, my greatest needs are tissues, a good book and a big cuddle. The corner shop can provide the first, and I'm devouring books instead of food - so hurry back, Mr B, and provide the third.

I'd forgotten just how utterly wretched colds can make you feel, so I've decided my Get Well therapy will be to go and see the film of Paddington. I watched the trailer online yesterday and it had me giggling like a teenager.