I used to think that if you exhibit enough will power and manage the symptoms effectively you could never really be properly sick. Mucus-y runny nose? Blow it. Tickle-y cough? Hold it in even if your chest is about to explode and your eyes are pissing salty water. If your throat is sore gargle salty water and scrape that lurgy out with the gurgling action of a good old fashion exorcism.
I thought that once the effects of being sick have been purged you’ll be, well. Better.
But last week reminded me that my purging symptoms methodology doesn’t always cut it. My lovely Dr told me, if you’re going to get sick, you’re going to get sick. That is truly what she told me. I can’t fault her logic.
So I was laid out with the earth spinning beneath me and no memory of what it felt like to ever have any energy. And a week went by.
When I emerged out the other side along popped my good mate with 2 tickets to The Curious Case of the Dog in the Night-Time.
It was lovely, worth it, go see it. I particularly loved every scene with Toby and was in awe and slightly terrified of all the London underground scenes.
It was so nice to get out of the house and to the West end, and sit back and be entertained. And by the sounds of the grumbling rumbling cacophony of coughs around the theatre I’m not the only one who’s had the lurgy. But I did have my bottle of water handy so no one else had to listen to the effects.