Speechless

This bizarre ongoing run of under-the-weatherness that's been bugging me for weeks has today manifested itself in superdense globules of thick green ectoplasm embedded in my throat, leaving me unable to speak beyond a whisper. Earlier this morning I coughed up a veritable mass of the stuff into my hand, where it lay quivering like an Ood brain. Nice. I binned it, but in retrospect maybe I should've tried to establish contact. Much to my frothing annoyance, this all means I'm in no shape to see Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds in Glasgow tomorrow, so we've reluctantly popped them up for sale at face value. (ooh, they just sold.) Fuck's sake, this'll be the second Nick Cave gig we've bought tickets for then missed - ah well, third time's a charm. I'm counting on seven days of refreshing sea air in Orkney to slap my immune system into action, otherwise I'll just have to retire from the civil service on ill health with the sniffles.

In further news, London has clearly gone off its tits and elected the Snork Maiden as Mayor of the city. Boris Johnson... he's the sort of candidate that Nathan Barley would vote for, isn't he? All those berks who've wibbled on internet message boards about how he'll make politics "interesting" rather put me in mind of a certain curse. And the BNP getting a seat on the Assembly? What the hell is going on down there? With every week I get more and more depressed with the state of British politics - it's increasingly hopeless, cynical, bitter, fractious, mired in inactivity and doing us absolutely no good as a nation, yet there's nothing I can see happening to turn things around. I'd love to think Compass really could make a difference, but it's hard to believe it. On darker days I find myself thinking where both Scotland and the UK in general will be heading over the next couple of decades and really don't like the results. No wonder I keep looking at Svalbard with a weird longing, but I'd be happy to make do with Scandinavia.

Comments

[Stacey]

If it's green goo, it's bacterial. You need antibiotics before it goes deeper into your lungs and turns into bronchitis or worse. Oy, you want we should worry?

Signed,
Jewish Mother

[Nagl]

Cheers mate, you prompted me to go a-looking on the NHS site to see what I'm down with - it looks like it's acute bronchitis already, but that's no biggie, NHS says it can be treated from home. Having said that, if I'm still having trouble speaking beyond a whisper on Monday, it's off to the doctor.

Talking of docs, last night's Doctor Who was fab!

[Albini's bitch]

You listen to jewish mother, son. got a stach of antibiotics I can sell you cheap.

[Nagl]

No need pal - phoned NHS24 this morning who sent me over to Western General and now I've got a nice helping of antibiotics and, oh lordy, steroids. Only five days worth, but a hefty dose. I tells you, an open pharmacy on a bank holiday is like an honest man in parliament. Still, it's not pneumonia, so that's good!

[Albini's bitch]

bet you still get bollocked at work

[Nagl]

Most likely, but at this stage I'm beyond caring. I'm just happy to be breathing (relatively) normally again - if I'd left it longer I could've ended up having a full-on asthma attack and getting stretchered off to hospital, which rather puts any wibbling from work into perspective.

[Stu N]

Continuing the Jewish theme, what you need is chicken soup.

[Stacey]

I know my infections! Hurrah!

Now I shall give you the lecture on finishing ALL of the antibiotics, even if you're feeling better, otherwise the bacteria will mutate and become SUPERBACTERIA and we'll all blame YOU.

Seriously. Complete the full scrip. Pretty please.

Signed,
Jewish Mother, who is always right and, oy vey, will you NEVER hear the end of this because it is my birthright to spread guilt and, you know, you should brush your hair and you really do owe your real mother a phone call. What kind of son are you that you should make her catch her death with worry? ;)

P.S. You've seen postcardsfromyomomma.com, right?

[Nagl]

Stu: Sounds good, bit too warm today for soup but I had a chicken roll with tomato and basil, which is sort of soupy... in a, er, solid, not-soup sort of way. Still, a good dose of chicken soup for lunch tomorrow sounds the ticket.

Stacey: Alright, alright, I'll finish my pills & clear my plate. Oy vey! :) Mind, there's only five days worth of pills anyway, a sudden burst it would seem. I'm just relying on a week of sea air and Orcadian alcohol to fix anything and everything. And it will too!