Sniffles and snuffles

There is nothing more dull than having flu, the kind of flu that fools  you  into thinking you are better when  lunch comes around,  but then crash bang wallop,  by tea time you are back in bed clutching a hot water bottle with your teeth chattering like a character from Funnybones ( much loved kids books about skeletons for those who haven’t had the pleasure). And none of this is helped by that fact that lemsips and cough medecines are foul and that even the smell of lemon ginger and honey makes me feel queasy having rather overdosed of late.And for the love of God please do not offer me another Winter wellness manuka honey sweet. Ever again.

Hopefully this morning I have turned a corner,  and for the first time in about a week  have woken up without feeling that a woodpecker had been trying to drill its way into my head during the night. Apart from the odd coughing fit ( I am sure I have damaged one of my ribs with all this convulsing) things are on the mend. And after all it has only been a nasty cough and judging by the experiences of others who have had it for weeks I have got off very lightly. 

I read an article somewhere about how to tell if you had real flu or not. The criteria seemed to be what you would do if you saw a £20 on the floor, just far enough  out of reach so that to get it involved getting out of bed. It said that if you simply didnt have the energy to bother it was real flu, and if you skipped out of bed and pocketed it you were merely a little under the weather. 

Its hard to be positive about the coming of Spring when I look out of the kitchen window at a  a smudged grey sky and endless drizzle, but it IS around the corner. Already it is still light at 5pm and there are daffodils coming up in the tub outside the back door. My garlic is standing tall and green, big enough for me to see it in my  plot when I look out of the bathroom window , and the broad beans seem to have survived the squirrels who spent most of December digging up the beans as fast as I re planted them. The bees in the allotment are out foraging and they flit over the pond at the end of the garden , taking sips of water before buzzing back home to their hives.

L is in Goa at the moment and called me yesterday as he stood by the pool in the dusky Indian evening. In between filling me in on tales of motorbikes  and beaches he kept jumping up and down and when I enquired what was going on he said that there were about 20 little frogs hopping on and off his bare feet. Seeing him surrounded by lush green vegetation, with the sound of crickets in the background reminded me of Kerala. When we sat on the verandah as the heat faded from the sky, the scent of jasmine and curry in the air. Without any warning  huge dark shapes crashed through the tops of the palms as the fruit bats made their way home, settling in the foliage like long black umberellas. 

And having said that Spring is coming I have just noticed it is now snowing. Happy Monday everyone.