Have you heard of the Five Pound Note test?
This is a fail-safe test to diagnose whether you are suffering from flu or just a common, albeit hasty, cold. Picture this:
a five pound note fluttering on your lawn. If you have a common or garden cold then you will mosey out into the back garden, pick it up and put it in your purse / wallet, congratulating yourself (in between sniffs) on your good fortune and keen eye-sight.
If on the other hand, you are suffering from flu, you will just go back to bed, presumably leaving the fiver to someone with or without a head cold.
Today I thought up a new test - the Sunflower Test. Despite
my pounding head, runny nose and nasty cough, when I saw what the wind and rain were doing to my sunflowers, I just had to wade to the rescue. Mr B thinks I am quite, quite mad but it's good to know that I don't have the flu. Though Mr B predicts, in a Voice
of a Doom, that having insisted on tying string onto every plant in the Sunflower Wall and fastening them to the garden fence, I may well Suffer The Consequences.
An even worse fate has befallen my two beautiful
potted sunflowers, now towering eight feet tall and well above the garage roof. The wind has knocked the whole pot over and one plant is bent at an unnatural angle. I pull it to its feet ( metaphorically speaking) and fasten it to the bracket on which the
hanging basket hangs. It's not a total remedy, more a bit of hasty First Aid which is all I feel capable of doing at the moment.
I nurse my cold with the Boots equivalent of Lemsip. Mr B says I should go down
to the shops and buy the Real Thing but I reckon there probably isn't too much difference. I only take it because it makes me feel rather more comforted, imbibing a hot lemon drink than popping pills. In my experience ( which is considerable as I have, as
you know, reached A Great Age) a cold simply has to be suffered, preferably in silence, until the morning when you wake up and think: "Tra La, I feel better today!" My friend Eleanor texts to advise a mixture of honey, lemon, glycerine - and a dash of whiskey.
Mr B nods approvingly; this is the kind of remedy he likes the sound of. Especially if the dash of whiskey is a liberal one.
There is always daytime TV for Poorly People, but the only programme I really don't
want to miss is the Weather Forecast. This is because granddaughter Eleanor is off into the New Forest on Thursday on her Duke of Edinburgh expedition. She will be busy packing tomorrow with the help of plenty of Wise Advice from her older sister, who has
the experience of a Gold Award expedition in Snowdonia behind her. I can imagine packing a rucksack for an expedition is an Exercise in Prioritisation, working out what you will need first, for example. I shall be sure to quiz my granddaughter on the finer
points of rucksack packing when she arrives here on Wednesday evening, en route to her Forest Adventure.
Me, I am a fair weather camper. I particularly remember one camping holiday when it rained for days,
when the children brought their muddy boots into the tent, nothing stayed dry and cooking for a family of six was like a Herculean Endeavour. I was about to up sticks (is that the correct expression) when the sun broke through, warmly apologetic for all it
had put me through. Food could be barbecued, pots washed up on a table outside our tent, clothes dried, muddy boots were stowed away in the boot of the car, blissfully forgotten until our return home. It was fortunate that the bad weather came first, followed
by the good because by the end of the holiday I could only remember the good times.
So, despite everything, I have managed to write the Daily Blog today. Only you, my readers, will be able to judge whether
it is a load of rubbish or holds within, some gems of insight and / or humour.
Be kind to me...