I really don't feel at all well. In fact, I'm what my dear dad would have called "proper poorly."
Obviously I can't be too bad, if I'm still able to blog.
It's just a common cold. And it does have its advantages. Today I woke up with an amazingly sexy, husky voice. I tried it out on Mr B but unfortunately it didn't have the required effect. This was probably because The Voice was
accompanied by a snivelly nose, bleary eyes and a hacking cough which had Mr B backing off and muttering something which sounded suspiciously like: "Don't give it to me!"
The other advantage is that
I get to tell you all about Mr B's considerable abilities as a male nurse. As the advert which accompanies today's blog asks, contentiously: "Are you man enough to be a nurse?" Mr B is certainly that - and more besides.
As a nurse, Mr B tends towards the style of the old-school hospital matron. He won't have any whingeing or moaning in his sick-room. He does, bless him, urge me to stay in bed for a while - but I suspect
this might be because he is missing all those lovely quiet mornings, before I retired, when he could enjoy watching whatever sport was on morning TV without me jumping about all over the place asking: "What shall
we do today?"
"How are you feeling?" he asks, solicitously, in his best Matron's voice. This is a trick question. Remember what I said about the whingeing and moaning? "I think I
feel a little bit better," I croak. He beams. It is the right answer.
Anyway, he has the answer to all my ills. It's called Covonia Chesty Cough Mixture and Mr B swears by
it. Not only does it contain Levomenthol and Liquorice Extract, but also something called Squill Tincture. You just know, from looking at the bottle, that it's going to be a fiery experience. Mr B reckons only wimps would take it watered
down so, as his prize patient, I have to swallow down two spoonfuls neat. "That'll sort you out," he says, satisfied. Indeed it will, I splutter to myself.
But, hey, we have tickets to
the Olympics for Super Saturday. I just have to be well by then. And suppose Mr B, like Matron, knows best?
Pass the Covonia, someone, please......