A wee cough...and a week off

       "It jolly well serves you right" I imagine people are saying, "for going out running in that thick, nasty fog, not to mention all the toxic exhaust fumes from the endless procession of early morning commuters - and at your age".  Well, maybe, but very likely it was a bug I picked up while commuting on various buses and trains or, most likely, while sat among all the poorly people in my local surgery waiting for a flu jab ten days ago. Whichever, it's a vicious little bug that's given me a throat full of razor blades, a raucous uncontrollable cough and reduced my energy levels to almost zero. "Go and see your doctor" my wonderful partner shouted over the phone. "I'm not going out of this house, I'm staying where it's warm" I croaked back, "it will pass in its own good time. What's a few days out of a lifetime?"
    

      Given how almost every word was puntuated by a fit of coughing she got herself all worked up and issued an ultimatum. "Phone your doctor NOW for a home visit. I'll ring again in an hour and if you haven't phoned the doctor by then I'm coming over to sort things out".  Oh, for goodness sake, I don't want her anywhere near me in the state I'm in for fear of her catching it too, especially with Christmas just around the corner. In truth, when I'm ill I don't want anybody near me. But I was forced to submit and reluctantly rang my local surgery. The patient receptionist had difficulty determining who I was or what I was talking about amidst all the coughing but must have got the details right. The doctor arrived not long after I'd put the phone down.
   

       "Looks like you've picked up a nasty bronchitis bug somewhere along your travels" he affirmed after sounding my
chest back and front, "and you wont thank me for saying this, but I'd advise you not to even think about running until it's completely cleared up. Apart from anything else it wouldn't do your heart any good" he added. Huh, as if.......! He scribbled a prescription for a seven day course of antibiotics and tootled off - leaving me with a bit of a dilemma. The nearest chemist is ½ mile away and there was no-one around to pick up my prescription - except me. So I'd to muffle up, sneak out and cough my way across the fields, hoping my wonderful partner wouldn't phone while I was out and get even more upset if there was no answer. Women worry too much!
     

      In the meantime Christmas shopping has been suspended (though I've been surfing the 'net for ideas) so had plenty of time to print cards and address scores of envelopes. I'm certainly not looking forward to visiting the Post Office for sheets of expensive stamps and even wondered if I could get away with staying ill until the festive season is over. To kill more time I've been reduced to watching snooker on telly and came to the conclusion it's even more complicated than chess, though the Graeme Dotts, Ronnie O'Sullivans and Neil Robertsons of this world make it look so simple. I've decided to stick to running, although snooker, chess and suchlike games might be OK at times I can't move very far. Like when I'm ill.....

      No pretty pictures this week, just a few of the many quotes I read and roll around in my head at such times as this to stay positive...