Impersonating an opera heroine, again!

I am healthy most of the time! But I don't mention that here, instead, only the plagues are spoken of.

This one is rather plaguey, I still have no voice, but now have a cough. I hope it is not the cough that Mr B has because he is onto his third antibiotic and has a codeine cough suppressant. Overachiever.

I had pomegranate with vanilla ice-cream to soothe my throat. The pomegranate had been in the fridge, so I had to give it a really good thump to knock all the seeds out, cutting it into sections, squeezing and thwacking it with a spoon. It was delicious.

I went to whisper to Mr Brammers about just how delicious it had been. He looked at me, concerned. 'How are you feeling?' he asked.

'Sick!'

'Do you have a fever?'

'Yes!' I said, pleased that he had noticed that I was poorly. 'I'm not enjoying it!'

'I think you might need to go up to the hospital ...'

'It's not that bad, it's just laryngitis, or a cold.'

He shook his head. 'You've come out in an awful rash!'

I ran to the bathroom to look in the mirror. I was, indeed, covered in red dots. I reached out my tongue and licked one off my chin. Yep. Pomegranate juice.

OK, that's the limit of my coherence for the day. I owe many comments, especially to the people who cheered me up immensely this afternoon with such lovely words. I believe my brain will return after a good sleep or two. Might nick a bit of the codeine ...

Impersonating an opera heroine, again!

I am healthy most of the time! But I don't mention that here, instead, only the plagues are spoken of.

This one is rather plaguey, I still have no voice, but now have a cough. I hope it is not the cough that Mr B has because he is onto his third antibiotic and has a codeine cough suppressant. Overachiever.

I had pomegranate with vanilla ice-cream to soothe my throat. The pomegranate had been in the fridge, so I had to give it a really good thump to knock all the seeds out, cutting it into sections, squeezing and thwacking it with a spoon. It was delicious.

I went to whisper to Mr Brammers about just how delicious it had been. He looked at me, concerned. 'How are you feeling?' he asked.

'Sick!'

'Do you have a fever?'

'Yes!' I said, pleased that he had noticed that I was poorly. 'I'm not enjoying it!'

'I think you might need to go up to the hospital ...'

'It's not that bad, it's just laryngitis, or a cold.'

He shook his head. 'You've come out in an awful rash!'

I ran to the bathroom to look in the mirror. I was, indeed, covered in red dots. I reached out my tongue and licked one off my chin. Yep. Pomegranate juice.

OK, that's the limit of my coherence for the day. I owe many comments, especially to the people who cheered me up immensely this afternoon with such lovely words. I believe my brain will return after a good sleep or two. Might nick a bit of the codeine ...