Hello. Guess what? I have the flu. Or at least a particularly nasty cold and cough combination that has had me bedridden for the past 48 hours. So what is quite possibly my biggest week at work so far this year has decended into chaos and I am too bunged up, wheezey and feeling sorry for myself to even care. Which is completely not like me at all. The only thing I can concentrate on is a constant flow of hot drinks and where my next tissue is coming from.
So I am holed up in Paul’s flat, watching films that I constantly drift off in the middle of and trying to keep myself hydrated which is a struggle as I appear to have turned into a very absorbant young thing as I am constantly drinking and constantly thirsty. It adds extra bathroom trips to my hell though which are great because I get to see quite how pasty and minging I actually look.
If you can’t tell I am feeling particually sorry for myself. I think it is because despite all my craziness and panicing I was going to bite the bullet so to speak and drive to Heathrow, pick up colleagues from far off lands and drive into London to take them to meet one of our customers. I was scared by I wasn’t going to let it beat me. I was going to do it and be proud of myself when I had. There goes that great triumph I tell you. Think the best I can expect is to drag myself up to the hotel for tomorrow night and hope that I am well enough to do my presentations on Thursday. It all sounds like far too much effort at the moment but that is not surprising as I have to psyche myself up to go into the kitchen and boil the kettle.
Anyway, the good thing about being here is that the laptop is linked up to the tv so I can sit in my PJ’s and blog away and I don’t have to squint at the screen because my words are huge. So yes people, it is true. My blog on TV, who’d have thought eh?
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