The reporting of my death has been greatly exaggerated (Mark Twain) but that is the worst I have felt in just over eight years (t850)

And so, dear listener, the cough, cold, lurgy thing I referred to last week, ran its course this week leading to some cancellations and some meetings which took place out in the open air, but did not involve long(ish) journeys and speaking. It was not ‘man flu’ which I think needs someone to look after you and get cups of coffee and, very importantly, make decisions for you e.g. ‘you’re not well enough to go to work. I’ll phone for you.’ 🙂

It was in fact an acute throat infection which left me shattered and sounding like a seal with whooping cough.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before but I’m single and live alone and part of the agony of not-wellness is the tossing and turning before you decide to call something off………for the student nurses of South Lanarkshire College, it is, hopefully, merely a postponement; there’ll be other nightshifts; and I’m not really too sure who I was going to see at the Mitchell anyway.

And whilst my PhD application is still being discussed, I’m not sure I took in anything that was said to me when I was out there earlier this week. It’s a wee bit of a struggle at present, but I ‘don’t do walking’….. unless there’s £700,000 worth of gardening leave involved.

No. I don’t give up unless there’s a good reason for doing so. But No. No reason.

But I have felt awful. I went to the doctor’s on Wednesday morning. Interesting morning because a young lady came out of another doctor’s room, shouting, ‘I’m going to sue the cow! Telling me that it’s time that I should take some responsibility for myself! I’ve got mental health problems! I can’t take responsibility!’…….

Discuss using one side of a piece of paper only.

Anyway I got called through and the first words Doctor Dave said to me were, ‘God, John, you look awful.’ So I left minutes later with a sick line, a prescription and the advice to get as much rest as possible and as much fresh air as possible……so it’s back to the days of sleeping in the Botanic Gardens. I thought they were long since past.

But I have slept a lot. A couple of nights, I slept for twelve hours; and I’ve slept lying on top of my bed for a couple of hours on a number of occasions altho’ once was to hide out of the way cos I thought there might be a row between my gardener and a neighbour……but there wasn’t.

Yes. ‘gardener’.

But I did get out once and it did meet the doc’s criteria – well most of them. I went to the pub with the blogmeister. It was the Tuesday; I drove to the Botanic Gardens and parked; walked through the Gardens and down Byres Road and met him; and into Tennent’s Bar. And I didn’t know anyone. This great fear that I’d be going back into the sce……that I’d be going back. It was sooo much different from the pub I remember from approx ten years ago. ‘Do you want ice in your orange juice?’…..That alone was a quantum leap in culture. 🙂

Two drinks tho’ and my voice had gone and I wasn’t looking forward to the walk and drive home………I was knackered. But that just leaves the Three Judges and all my ghosts are exorcised.

However – back to me – talking about me and my illness. It’s a wee bit more heroin withdrawal than alcohol, I believe (and I suspect Hogan Sinclair would agree) but I should stress that I only did one of those but have witnessed the other.

I’m eating lots of scrambled eggs; the man at the petrol station backed off when I tried to say, ‘Pump Seven’; and my house is a pit but the refurbishment continues. I have now had a lot of electrical work done and thrown out 17 million double, triple and quadruple sockets. 🙂

So I’ll leave all that here and say

Cya, still wearing that badge and defo going for it? No. Not this week.

Johnt850, a shadow of the man I once was.

So a lot of music over the last few days and a lot of things I can do nothing about. Several things are worryng me at present but they’re best tackled when I’m feeling better. Even yesterday #soulboydaviebee kept taking one step to the side when I was trying to explain to him why I would not be in his car going to Dingwall.

So here’s Ed Sheeran, Rudimental and ‘Bloodstream’

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