The Cold of a Storyteller
There's no justice, is there? I mean, I swallow enough multi-vitamins and garlic capsules each day to protect the whole parish from all ailments known to man, I should think. Yet all this week I have been suffering from an annoying little cold, at a time of year when no one (least of all the person protected by multi-vitamins and garlic) should have a cold. It started on Monday with a trivial sore throat, and has grown into something which keeps me coughing and sipping water throughout prayers and PCC meetings, and lying awake most of the night unable to breathe.
The sense of injustice was compounded by not being able to remember being in contact with anyone who had a cold. It looked like a visitation designed specifically and malignantly for me.
Then last night I remembered. Barbara had a cold at Bunkfest last Saturday, and all through that storytelling, she was exhaling minute germ-laden water droplets which I then stood in the same space and inhaled. Gee, thanks, Barbara. I hope you're feeling much better ...
Naturally there is no sympathy to be had from the Best Beloved. As we sat in bed this morning with our Saturdays-only morning cuppa, the conversation turned to TB (as it does).
-That's what I've got, said I, coughing wretchedly. Even Mr Hyde would have shed a compassionate tear.
-No, what you've got is TBFSF.
-?
-To Be Felt Sorry For.
The sense of injustice was compounded by not being able to remember being in contact with anyone who had a cold. It looked like a visitation designed specifically and malignantly for me.
Then last night I remembered. Barbara had a cold at Bunkfest last Saturday, and all through that storytelling, she was exhaling minute germ-laden water droplets which I then stood in the same space and inhaled. Gee, thanks, Barbara. I hope you're feeling much better ...
Naturally there is no sympathy to be had from the Best Beloved. As we sat in bed this morning with our Saturdays-only morning cuppa, the conversation turned to TB (as it does).
-That's what I've got, said I, coughing wretchedly. Even Mr Hyde would have shed a compassionate tear.
-No, what you've got is TBFSF.
-?
-To Be Felt Sorry For.
posted by Tony at 9/11/2004 02:20:00 pm
1 Comments:
The good thing about TBFSF is that you are not obliged to burst into song in the best Violetta tradition...be thankful for small mercies...and feel better soon, she says, more sympathetically :-)
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