Day nineteen – Achoo!

The good (and bad) news is that the other night’s sleep marathon probably has nothing to do with depression and everything to do with the sneezes that started today when I was driving down to the Hall to help with panto set up. (The accompanying headache started as soon as I drove away from the house.)

The reason this is bad news is, of course, that this is the worst possible time to get a cold. Tech and dress rehearsals Monday through Wednesday mean I cannot cocoon myself on the sofa swilling brandy-laced Lemsip, but must go out. Hopefully the worst will be over by performance weekend.

Lasted an hour at the Hall before I had to give up and come home – my most important contribution to the proceedings getting the tea made. Mind you, as many agreed, this was an extremely important contribution.

Stopped in the village on my way back to buy some chicken noodle soup. Bogusly medicinal no doubt, but comforting nonetheless. This is what my mum gave me when I had a cold. My mum may not be here to take care of me, but I can still have the soup.

Used the last of my strength when I got home to haul up some wood. This is not a day for being all British, determined that there should be no fire in the woodstove until after dark, that it’s not cold enough to merit a fire during the daytime, goddamn it. This is a day for a fire and a quilt and some cold medicine.

Chicken soup consumed. Now, where’s the brandy?