The Other B&B

No I haven't been on some exotic island. I haven't been sunning-it while others slave away. I've been bedridden with bronchitis. Like being hit with a tonne of bricks, right in the chest and having the remnants of my lungs rumble around like debris… And then there’s the fever.

While my absence for the first few days went largely unnoticed by friends and family back home – my sweaty, disease-fuelled slumber made international phone calls somewhat difficult – friends this side of the equator made a point of suggesting my illness was a way for my body to get me to slow down. Couldn’t it have left me a memo instead? Was confining me to my room with aching muscles and joints and a heaving chest really the best way to teach me a lesson? And why must I learn a lesson anyway?

I see people on a daily basis eating poorly, dressing inappropriately for the winter chill and drawing back on cigarettes like I down H2O – why aren’t they sick? Not that I wish my last week upon anyone.

I would never describe myself as a sickly person, but this is officially my second cold of the season. Although, technically it's now Spring. I honestly cannot remember a time when I had an entire week off work, may it never happen again.

With my hand on my heart I promise my body (mind and soul) that I’ll do my best to get my eight-hours a night and all my vitamins… But bring on a good (old-fashioned) English Summer… I’m ready for some heat!