Thursday, December 18, 2008

Pump Me Full Of Vitamin C, For I Am Pune Incarnate


Blimey.


My second blog post about being under the weather in as many weeks. But before you decry me as a useless malingerer with the constitution of a gnat whose feeble infected body ought to be flung from a cliff into a swirling sargasso of frenzied feeding sharks, allow me to point out in my defence that prior to this Month Of Mucus, I’ve only chalked up a single day off work in ten years due to illness, and even then, I was actually skiving.

What comforts me, in my hour of dissolving man-size tissues by the boxload, is that I’m not alone in my plight. This is not to say I’m glad everyone else is sniffling and snorking too; merely to point out that a lot more people in my immediate social circle seem to be ill than is normally the case for this cheery, festive time of year. Indeed, I was only remarking this morning to the woman in Tesco (as I stood paying for my Lucozade and trying not to die) that most of the people I’d encountered while browsing the shelves seemed unusually dead, and the few who were up and about on their feet could have passed for cardboard cutouts soaked in wallpaper paste.

Maybe it’s the economy. Maybe everyone is a tad more downcast than usual for glad inhabitants of the new millennium that the physiological hurdles erected by our bodies to keep the bugs at bay have somehow overturned. Or maybe there’s a sale on.

Either way, my head feels like a strip of overcooked bacon that's been tugged between both halves of my brain by a dimwit ogre enthusiastically trying to make fire. And I’ve groaned like a fat man’s settee all day long.

Shoot me.

11 comments:

Robin S. said...

Indeed, I was only remarking this morning to the woman in Tesco (as I stood paying for my Lucozade and trying not to die)

I love how you put things, wthere you're sick, well, or somewhere in between.

I do agree the econ has people predisposed, perhaps, to illness at this time. Feeling in perilous straights will drag ya down.

Hope you feel better soon. Keep your hiney planted in the fat guy's saggy cushy chair, and get well.

McKoala said...

With what? Vitamins?

Looks like pureed turkey for you this year. Poor old Whirl.

Aerin said...

Okay, the last time you were sick, I got sick, too, and told McK it was because we were transatlantic making out - and then she joined in. So maybe she gave it back to you - a little extra bloggy canoodling....

Whirlochre said...

Hey Aerin — this could almost be the plot for a novel. No, wait a minute, hasn't it already been used in Wuthering Heights? Or was it King Kong? Either way, much better today. It's so bizarre. I'm one of those people who just doesn't get ill — which is not to say I don't suffer from the constant effects of gravity from time to time. It's just the bugs.

Kiersten said...

Whirl, you are a useless malingerer with the constitution of a gnat whose feeble infected body ought to be flung from a cliff into a swirling sargasso of frenzied feeding sharks.

But then, I've always thought being eaten by sharks would be a delightful way to go, and think you deserve no less than the coolest death possible.

That being said, hold off a bit on dying, because I like you.

Whirlochre said...

According to a gypsy woman by the name of Trudy Bates, who I consulted on Skeggie pier as a nipper, some time around 2025, I'm fated to be compressed into a cube by a sextet of grizzly bears armed with dinner trays. Maybe I'll get fed to the sharks after that, but the gypsy never mentioned anything.

As ever, Kiersten, you pile on the charm like a 400' human pyramid of David Nivens.

Dave King said...

You certainly are not alone - but tell me, how does that help?

fairyhedgehog said...

I’ve only chalked up a single day off work in ten years due to illness, and even then, I was actually skiving

Well, there you are then. It's karma.

Take lots of vitamin C and echinacea and paracetamol. Not lots of paracetamol, we don't all want to bump you off, but lots of vitamin C.

And get well soon.

Whirlochre said...

In truth, Dave, I have only the witness of synaptic flap as evidence to distinguish myself from the glut of information involuntarily (mostly) and consciously (hopefully) sucked into the whirl of potassium and sodium ions whizzing about at seeming random along the nervous system of my quirk-of-chance smack of hoist into life, but in this spectaclarly impersonal regard, I get to share something of the universe with the umpteen billion specimens of homo sapiens (dead, alive, and envisaged yet to be) for whom any response to the concept of being drizzled with molten chocolate ice cream till they can't take it no more (for example) is exquisitely indeterminable till the moment (and I realise I have to pursue a very ill-chosen metaphor here) the first dribble of Ben & Jerrys is perceived to splash against flesh in all its inanimate glory.

If it helps, this is a very partial answer to what I understand to be a brilliant question.

As for the vitamin C, FH, I'm currently pissing grapefruit juice onto my keyboard through the skin pores of my fingers. As a visual spectacle to which "the whole family" could be invited for the amazing price of a quid fifty, this spray of juice has no peer. Sadly, I need to attract ten such families to my person, just for the privilege of being able to carry on typing this nonsense...

Kiersten said...

Flattery is an especial gift of mine.

My family and I made the trip to England just to watch said spectacle. Alas, we were turned away at the door. Turns out we were rather confused and brought fifty squid.

Son of Whirl threw them at us as we ran away.

freddie said...

Yikes, Whirl. You sound sick. But I see you haven't lost your touch for wonderful hyperbole. . . .

Feel better and have a happy holiday!!!