The Down Side of Sociability

is, of course, that by definition you are mixing with Other People and Other People sometimes share more than a smile.

I was out twice last Tuesday, once with a friend to this place which you at remember the OH said he would never go to again. Having given it a Second Chance I am now in total agreement with him,as indeed is the friend I went with this time. In the evening I had a committee meeting. I was not aware on either occasion of anyone around me not being well but ....

on Thursday I woke up with one of those annoying dry tickly coughs that feel as though you have a grain of rice lodged at the back of your throat. It was still there Friday at which point I actually swallowed some 'dry tickly cough' cough mixture. Given that I would generally rather cut off my head than swallow a paracetamol for a headache, this was going some. Saturday I woke up to discover that the sandpaper elves had been having a party in my throat and from then on in the cough just got worse. Although I don't bother the doctor generally, and never with 'just a cough' I broke yesterday morning after a night of constant coughing, very broken sleep and hearing my lungs making funny noises every time I tried to drop off. There is 'not bothering the doctor' and there is being stupidly stubborn and the two are not the same. 

We are fortunate here to be able generally to get appointments the same day we ring up for them, (I feel I should be apologising for this somehow as it is not normally the case in other parts of Britain; there again surely it should be the government which should apologise for underfunding General Practice so appallingly) which is how I was in the surgery fewer than three hours after staggering sleepily to the telephone. I had to laugh as I managed to summon up the energy to change my clothes just before going, having decided that turning up in a  blood stained shirt (knocked scab from my back) a dirty jumper (messy eater) and trousers where  the hem on one leg was falling down (kindly pointed out to me the previous day by a friend - I tend not to notice these things until the trousers are on the ironing board) was perhaps not the best idea, given that I was presenting with a cough and wheezy lungs, not depression. Or indeed Slatternly Tendencies. 

Anyway the news was good. I did not have a chest infection as I had feared, it was merely a viral thing that is 'going round, the worst thing is it knocks the stuffing out of you but  it will get better on its own, stay warm, rest, keep hydrated etc'. The clue apparently was in the sore throat, which is good to know for future reference. I felt very very much better coming away from the surgery than going into it. 

Today I feel rather worse which is sad as we're going away tomorrow - just a quick overnighter to Inverness to see Scottish Opera's Evgeny Onegin. I much prefer seeing opera in Glasgow but Inverness is better than noting and it means we won't be gone long. Hopefully by tomorrow I will be almost back to normal, and also not sounding like a frog whenever I open my mouth!