Ill

You know what I'm talking about. That tickle in the back of your mouth. The swelling glands. Achy limbs. You try the mind over matter thingy telling yourself, "I'm not getting ill. It's not possible. I take vitamins for chrissakes!" But you feel yourself eventually succumb to the inevitable.

"ALL RIGHT!" You might screech. "I'm sodding well sick! Happy, now?"

Well, I'm bloody not. I leave on a mini-break to sunny San Diego tomorrow morning and I am feeling the onset of illness. Why, oh why did it have to happen now? Well, why not, really. It's because I've been so effing happy recently, isn't it? This is the universe's way of balancing me out. "Go on your mini-break." I can hear it hissing, "Let's see how much fun you have in the Pacific if you can't breathe!" And then it will cackle with malicious glee whilst rubbing it's massive universey hands together.

Uh huh. Well, I've got news. I'm not gonna lay back and take it. No way, it is a deathmatch between me and that grubby bacteria taking over my body. Its colonies are not going to be in residence here. Medicine, water, orange juice, and chicken noodle soup = a cure. See? I'm a man with a plan. Er, woman. You know what I mean.