A phenomenological account of my body would fail at the moment. Implode or explode or just plode more generally.
I am usually quite nice to my body, and I expect a modicum of decency in its reciprocal behaviours. Round five of antibiotics 2009, however, beg to differ.
I am cheering myself up thus:
risotto, and lot of it.
Lemon, and honey, and ginger, and more ginger, and more ginger, and garlic.
With this gem:
and this rather gorgeous appraisal of Scottish weather:
It makes me laugh almost as much as this makes me booooogie in the worst possible way, with a hairbrush and too few clothes:
I love the eighties.
So it isn’t all snot and misery, despite the garganutan quanities of tissue I am getting through.
Shivery happy, full of foolish grins and glad suddenly that winter is plunging like a drunk in gales towards us. Happy to be freezing with the promise of warmth. Although, I grant you, I secretly just want this again: