The arena of the unwell

On Wednesday evening I bought some Strepsils. There was a funny taste at the back of my throat and I didn't want to risk one of those nights were you lie there with a sore throat and the full-on ill taste.

Yesterday, driving over to Workington, I had a couple of Strepsils and a couple more before I was due to speak. But I still wasn't ill. I rarely am, to be honest. But it felt quite novel to think I might be ill and take some medicine (or at least throat sweets). But I was fine really. I left the Strepsils in my pocket after that and didn't think of them.

But then, last night, once I was in bed, a dry cough started, irritating at first, but persistent, every couple of minutes, so I couldn't get to sleep. By the early hours of the morning my chest was beginning to hurt. I wasn't sure whether I was sleeping or not, it just seemed like one endless string of coughs. I think it stopped around six or seven and I slept soundly until eleven.

I rang the office to point out that I wasn't there, in case no one had noticed, and to say I was unlikely to appear at any point, and went downstairs to make coffee. At which point the cough woke up, too, and followed me 'round the house.

As I say, I'm not often ill and I feel a bit fraudulent when I tell people I'm not well, although I hammed it up a little when I told the Minx, if only for comic effect. Then I decided I'd have a bath, which is also unusual for me, but I lowered myself into the deep, hot bath and promptly fell asleep. There was, in case you are concerned, little danger of drowning: the width of my shoulders versus that of the bath means I have to adopt a position similar to that of someone competing in the luge: I was wedged into place.

After that I dressed, found something to eat and then went to the chemist in search of a panacea for the coughing. Boots have taken over a couple of chemists around here: this particular one used to belong to Mary Cummings, who was a very nice lady, but the Boots people are friendly, too, and after listening to my cough, they recommended the Benylin.

Sorted with medication, I went to pick up Dan and Abi, before heading back to the cottage to make supper. Fortunately, for them Friday night is pizza night, so that was straightforward enough, and then I lit the fire and candles before settling down on the sofa. It was at this point that my nose started pouring like crazy. And it was shortly after this point that I realised that I had no tissues in the house :-(

Later on, while the snotty toilet roll piled up and as Dan and I were watching Doctor Who on Netflix, I was just wondering about sending them to bed so that I could go too, when there was a knock on the door. I honestly couldn't imagine who it might be and, in fact, as I got up to answer, I was worried that there might be a problem, something serious.

It was the Minx! She had driven up with her daughter, bringing all sorts of goodies: orange juice, fruit, cough sweets, two boxes of tissues with balm (praise the Lord!), chocolate and all the ingredients for a hot toddy, most of which was in this brown paper bag. I can honestly say that I don't think I've ever been so pampered in my life!

"We are drifting into the arena of the unwell" - one of my favourite lines from 'Withnail and I'.