This here is the last of my course of antibiotics for my flu. I am usually one of those people all the reports talk about – the ones who don’t take all of the antibiotics prescribed to them.
Good work me for finally managing to take pills for a whole week.
When I was flying back from Rotorua last week there was an agitated boy sitting directly behind who kept wailing “Quois Mama? Quois?” He thumped the plane wall and sulked about the trip he was going on.
He then proceeded to wheeze and cough the phlegmiest coughs for the duration of the flight – without covering his mouth.
I have a question for him! Why don’t you cover your mouth? I am so ill. I blame him.
(By the way, that medicine is the worst I have ever tasted, avoid).
Not even the food poisoning that hit me on the flight home from The Cook Islands (salad and local beers I suspect) could rival what struck me today. That’s all I’m saying.
After two nights of a tickly throat and runny nose enough was enough and I spent the day at home. Slept until lunchtime with a brief breakfast interlude, then spent the day on the sofa watching terrible rom-coms (I Hate Valentines Day) and reality shows.
Pigalina's Palace 