Icky Bitty Cold

My lower back is aching, my neck is stiff and I’m freezing. Don’t even get me started on the state of my face – nose running, eyes itchy and blurry vision – I’m sick.

Now this is the time of year, especially in Britain, that the common cold runs rampant, but my being sick is not the fault of Mr. Frosty, it’s all my own doing. You see for some bizarre reason over the last fortnight I have sought to convince myself that it isn’t actually winter, and that a simple khaki jacket provides the required warmth for all temperatures above 4-degrees and below 10. It doesn’t.

It would in fact appear that everyone else in London, those donning their scarves and gloves and beanies were being clever and not overly precious, as I had smirked on more than one occasion while I hurried through the windy streets between work and home.

Now I’m suffering for my state of hubris.

Now, tail between my legs I walk to the kitchenette at work and refill my cup of peppermint tea for the hundredth time. I dissolve Echinacea in glasses of water and I munch on clementines to up my Vitamin C intake.

Now I admit defeat. I’m sick. And woe is me.