I knew I should have known better, thinking I’d got away unscathed from my close proximity to Furtle’s throaty cough and strange, almost but not quite cold.
The past 36 hours or so, I have been coughing on and off – it’s not yet continuous – but in the past hour, my voice has started to grate and catch a little. More to the point, I only feel about 85%.
Quite apart from the not wanting to be poorly at the best of times, right now is a bad time to get ill. Tomorrow is the strike, and if I’m off, no-one will ever believe it’s because I don’t feel well, so I’ll lose a day’s pay, or feel worse by coming in. Hopefully it will clear up a little over night if I turn in early.
Equally irritating is the fact that the annual GASP is this weekend. I am supposed to be acquiring industrial quantities of cheese and heading off to Norfolk with the lads for a weekend’s gaming, boozing and pre-Christmas shenanigens.
Bah. Grumble.
*COMPLAIN!*
