November 8th, 2005

end of a decade

I slept all day

On top of my cold I got kind of cold at the weekend, winter's here after all. Firework night is mighty grand, is it not? But I woke up the following morning really too ill to go into London to see my sister and nephew. My inadequacy for the task received its just rewards (including a long walk in the rain along the South Bank, repeatedly failing to find Ofili's Upper Room, and a tube-journey panic bad enough to make my shins ache) and culminated in my getting there after nephew's bedtime. This morning, after choking up what felt like half a lung, I stumbled downstairs and told Damian I thought I shouldn't go to work today. "Great," he said, "You'll be able to get loads done!" But I didn't even manage to do the washing up. Just stayed in bed. Some sickie.

no more lace curtains ever

.... er, no. They're geese.Much better today, although still a little afraid of the cold. Hats and scarves from now on, I think. But it comes to my attention (now my brain is recovering) that I act pretty weird when I'm ill. Take going into London, for example. There were papers on the bus, and, given I was too cold-fuddled to work I took one, read it and in some weird sort of blogspasm, ended up recording highlights (and lowlights) of the Sunday Independent (partly provoked by the business section mistaking geese for ducks). It was probably the first time I've read a paper properly in years, internet news addict that I am. Not bad, despite the fact that it didn't have the awesome black-and-white photography I remembered, and the cartoons were unbelievably awful. It also kept falling on the floor and didn't have google, but I understand that's a general problem with the media.

Today I have mostly been laughing at: unlikely slash. But probably just because I'm still feverish.
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