Oooh the pain!
Yesterday was a struggle. My guts were feeling all heavy and sickly. I must have caught what The Jingo was throwing up on Saturday night. Or maybe it was the semi-defrosted hot dogs I had for Sunday lunch.
Either way, I was sick as a dog. There I was, trying to concerntrate on work, wearing my suit and big "Matrix" jacket, trying to keep warm. Instead, I kept shivering, shivering, shivering.
I had to cancel my dinner appointment with The Jingo's friends. Missed a trip out to Earlsfield for some Shepherd's Pie. Would've been nice but I'm sure I wouldn't have been able to keep it down.
As soon as I got home, I turned on the heater and jumped into bed. After a while, I started to feel feverish, my forehead burning, my head throbbing. Off went the heater and I sat up watching a couple of episodes of Homicide: Life on The Street.
The good news is that today, after a good night's sleep, I feel about 85% better. Which is great 'cause I have drinks tonight and The Ashes tomorrow.
The bad news - zero writing. However, I did hallucinate quite a bit last night, which was great for my ego. There I was, reading out the first chapter of my novel to the Creative Writing Class at Harrogate Crime Writing Festival. Val McDermind was so impressed, she organised various meetings with agents and publishers. I think at one stage I was even roped into being part of a writing panel.
Oooh, if only . . .