Bah Humbug!

I definitely wouldn’t be Christmas’s number one fan but this year’s ranks amongst one of my worst ever. Christmas Eve, I was on my way home from work when I felt the first twinges of yet another cold, my third in as many weeks. By night time my temperature had shot up to 103F and the pains started. It was a full on flu. ‘Manflu!’ I hear all the ladies scream. Nope this was definitely a flu.

Sleep was impossible amid the feverish hallucinations brought on by the high temperatures. One of these hallucinations developed when I turned on my side and one foot came to rest on the other. Convinced that there was someone else, other than Lady Mc and meself, in the bed I kicked the offending foot away. Feeling that someone had kicked my foot I retaliated by kicking back and very soon a full on pitch battle between both my feet ensued that lasted for a good half hour. Not able to take any more I dragged myself from bed and crawled downstairs where I had to be physically restrained from cutting both my feet off with the bread knife. Lady Mc suggested a pair of thick wooly socks instead. She’s so clever.

Christmas Day, my temperature rose to 104F. I spent the day alone between bed and the sofa. I persuaded Lady Mc to go to her parents like she had planned for the day and not to stay at home with me. I make the worst patient. I hate to be pampered, I hate to be touched, I hate being asked questions and I hate being told to do things like, drink plenty of fluids and don’t wrap up so well. It was better for both of us that I was left alone in my feverish misery. 

Stephen’s day was much the same. Lady Mc was out celebrating her father’s birthday and I was again the better for being left alone. Towards night, the fever broke and as I waded through the sweat patches in my search for some dry land I slowly elbowed LadyMc out of the bed and into the spare room. She’s so understanding.

So, today, I find myself back at work. The ONLY reason that I’m here is that we operate a skeleton crew over the Christmas period and I said I’d work it so I HAVE to be here. I am the colour of a boiled shite, I have about a weeks growth, the only thing I’ve eaten since my breakfast on Christmas Eve has been two bowls of soup and three slices of brown bread, I’ve lost three quarters of a stone (five Kilos for my American readers) in weight and the next person that says to me, ‘Jaysus, look at you! You must have had a great Christmas!’, I am going to fucking kill them!