Sunday, May 29, 2005

I'm feeling crumpled and sorry for myself. Spending three days coughing and sneezing is not my idea of a fun Bank Holiday!

SuperSpouse is away - due back later this evening, after a long weekend in Derbyshire. So where have been my cups of tea, sweet words of consolation, enquiries after my well-being? I needn't expect them tomorrow - he'll be too knackered after his long drive home!

Meanwhile, Cello Boy is leaving the cello behind and going to France on a school trip tonight. Hopefully, SuperSpouse will be back before Cello Boy has to be at school, otherwise no.2 and no.3 sons will have to be dragged out of their beds! I have never seen no.1 son so excited. He can't stop chattering about it. I wouldn't want to be a teacher on that bus, not for anything! Thirty-odd kids as high as kites? No thanks.

I've tried to apply myself to reading a 2-volume tome about C. K. Sharpe and his ballad-collecting, really I have. It's hard, but I seriously have tried. In between dosing myself with cough medicine, paracetamol, vitamins, fruit smoothies, zinc and echinacea ... you've got to admit that I do this cold business thoroughly.

Right, it is bathtime. No, not my bathtime, I hasten to add.

Oh yes, credit where credit's due again - the image is from

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