I really do wish that I had something interesting and appealing to write about. Unfortunately, I do not. The persistent cough and lethargy are ruining my days (and most nights) and not for the first time, they are being ably assisted by the weather.
You know that feeling, too hot one minute, too cold the next? That seems to be my current curse, as I trudge around with Ollie, shedding my top coat, only to scrabble to put it back on again, minutes later. The April weather is running true to form. Heavy rains followed by hot sun, blue skies followed by ominous clouds. Those clouds seem to be in pursuit of me, as I try to exit the gate at Hoe Rough, before the next downpour catches me out. Ten minutes later, my coat wet from the rain, I am baking in the sudden heat of a warm afternoon, unable to guess what to wear, and when not to wear it.
The heavy showers have brought the mud back to life too. Just as it had started to dry, it is reinvigorated in its slickness, deep pools sucking at the uncomfortably warm boots that I still have to wear, despite the sunshine. Frequent pauses are necessary too, to facilitate nose-blowing, endure fits of sneezing, or just to cough and splutter whilst standing still. Back home, there is scant relief. The same coughing and sneezing dominates the lighter evenings. More tablets, more cough medicine, and little taste in the food from our meal. I can hardly be bothered to concentrate on the TV, and there are a few good dramas on at the moment. Similarly, the computer has little appeal, as it is hard to type with tissues in your hand, and constantly pausing to cough.
The thought of going to bed later fills me with the dread of knowing that I will no doubt be awake in the early hours, sleep banished by coughing or choking, unable to get the temperature right as well. Too hot under the duvet, too cold in the night air outside of the covers. It is making me fed up.
And I am a bit fed up with being fed up, as my title suggests.