some kind of fun feverish weekend

I got so sick this weekend and as quickly as it came it disappeared. In my punched drunk state of lucid consciousness brought on by 30 hours of flying and foolishly doing a full day’s work on three hours sleep the day after I landed, it was almost inevitable that I would come down (with something, that was not part of the plan).

But it started around nine o’clock after a bout of tweeting to find out what games we had got after the World Cup draw was completed, turns out it’s England vs. Algeria and Portugal vs. North Korea, I suddenly felt cold. Thirty minutes went by and I had my winter PJz on and was pinned under two duvets and a comforter, cold sweat, the shivers, fever!

It was the most uncomfortable of nights I don’t even want to get into the thoughts that were drenched in my head but it wasn’t pleasant. Then Saturday arrived, it was supposed to be a drive out to the French Corner and a feast of champagne but I had no energy, it took five minutes to get from the bedroom to the kitchen. Everything was in a state of flux, I felt fine, then I felt faint, then I felt fine (no I’m not pregnant) and so it went for most of the day, until I got hungry (no I’m not pregnant) and I had to go out and get provisions which comprised of four bottles of champagne, 12 beers and an expensive bottle of whisky, and some bread, cheese and pancetta. All weekend long, I needed toothpaste but not in a deli, not in a bottle store, not on the Mr Delivery catalogue.

I knew that I was breaking one of the rules, but you know what they say, live by the rules but make sure that you break some of them along the way and as I have an imposed rule of no new whisky until a bottle has been finished, still I couldn’t resist it was Auchentoshen after all, the three wood, triple distilled Scotch and it was well priced (you know) and I could go on here offering you ‘embarrassment and my usual excuses’ but it’s in the cupboard with the other bubbles.

Then I went to yoga for a yin moment, to try to sweat out the last of it, I wasn’t sure whether this was sensible but it made more sense than waiting it out looking at all of my newly acquired alcohol and feeling slightly guilty about my excessive streak. After intellectualising, I just went and got my yoga on (travel has made me momentarily decisive), it was a small class and it reminded me of university tutorial group and while it was hard simply because I had very little strength, the heat and the motion helped the recovery.

After which it was a little whisky with my best friend and a long complaining conversation which did me in.

I had a good night’s sleep Saturday, woke up at 13h30 on Sunday, a day of rest and of chores, a day for finding toothpaste because the travel sachets were almost up and then the restlessness began and even though I’m restless, I’m still fussy and that doesn’t help.

But I did end up in good company and I even got a free supper which helped ease the frustration although since I wasn’t drinking I still had all of this energy.

Now Monday arrives on schedule and I’m straight on D-fense blocking the crap, it feels like it’s been thrown from all angles, testing my agility and my patience. Entwined in all of the noise is a nasty piece of analysis that needed to be completed last week and I just don’t have the heart for it.

And, and, and the icing on the cake was a bird shat on me and my shirt during the lunch time walk, this is apparently lucky but it’s also shitty – welcome back to your reality.

And yes I did get toothpaste on Sunday night, you’ll be pleased to know!