I had a cold, that’s all.
And compared with some of the colds I have seen doing the rounds it wasn’t even a very impressive cold. I have seen this nasty cold thing in other people going on and on for weeks and weeks, reinventing itself and going back for a second , third and even fourth assault like a persistent little terrier attacking the postman’s leg. I haven’t, touch wood, been so severely afflicted, and it didn’t really make me feel ill - although I could have done without the worst of the symptoms hitting me on the day I was supposed to be narrating for the church pantomime. C’est typique.
But not by any stretch of the imagination have I been nearly as under the weather as my housemates. Hubby, of course, being a man would have to have it worse than the two women but to be fair he was quite bad and didn’t go sick from work at all – I bet his colleagues were really chuffed. As for the girlie, she is into her second month of bunged-uppedness while I am pretty okay. But for some strange reason my failure to attend a function seemed to suggest to people that I was very ill. In hushed tones people were approaching my mother to ask how ill I was. She was bemused and told them I had a cold. But then why wasn’t I there that night? I was in fact out at a post-Christmas Christmas Meal and not feeling remotely unwell.
Still it’s nice to know that people were concerned and caring.
