Alison (bohemiancoast) wrote,

Despatches from the sickbed

The sore throat that was merely irritating at the weekend turned into full-blown ulcerated tonsillitis; I've been given antibiotics but without any real suggestion that they're likely to help. What this means in practice is that I won't be coming to the Silver Cross, or indeed any other London pub, tomorrow night. green_amber, you're still very welcome to come and stay; and I trust you can find your way here? We've found your expensive Lancome makeup, by the way. Anyone else who was planning to bring me stuff or messages; stuff should go to someone who'll be at Brian & Caroline's this weekend, and messages can go here or by e-mail.

Tonsillitis tips would be welcome; an indication of how bad I feel can be gleaned from the fact that yesterday I spent twelve solid hours lying on the sofa watching UK Style (you know, shows like Ground Force, House Invaders, Bargain Hunt, Big Strong Boys, that sort of thing) while my brain slowly leaked out of my ears. My temperature goes up and down depending on how long it is since I last had a dose of paracetamol; and I no longer need a thermometer to measure my temperature -- at 100, I just feel faintly miserable but can surf the web and write e-mail; at 101 I need to lie down but can manage to watch television providing it has no element of plot or intellectual content, and at 102 I drift in and out of weird dreams in which I solve problems that actually have nothing much to do with me, like the handling of the initiation of the congestion charge or Blair's relationship with Chirac. I'm not at all hungry, but am nevertheless eathing small amounts of soup, juice and ice cream, and drinking lots of tea with honey in it and Vichy water.

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