Medicine

Since we're spending tomorrow singing Renaissance settings of texts from the Song of Songs, and I'm crawling out of the throes of a cold, emergency medicine was called for this lunchtime to try to encourage some vestige of a singing voice to emerge from the croaking.

There may those who doubt the efficacy of comfort food in such circumstances as opposed to my normal dry crust of bread and small glass of water*, and they may be right. Certainly I wonder why cafes find it necessary to augment lasagne, which after all has its built-in carbohydrates, with garlic bread and chips. It was a trial, but I managed to cope nonetheless.

The raw onion was a bridge too far, however, and remained untouched.

*You've heard of the unreliable narrator?