It is at least lighter in the mornings now, the be noticeable. Which is nice. We are up and about at ten past seven, and it seems already daylight, even with sunrise still 40 minutes away. But there is a clear sky for nowm, but the BBC says it won't last.
After a shower, the coughing and running nose begins. Of course, the observant among you might point ask how did I know it was a cold not an allergy attack? Good question, and at times I wondered myself; maybe it was both. But allergies render my nose and sinuses blocked by something akin to quick setting cement, whilst what I had yesterday was clearly a snot tap that had been left on to drip.
Outside dark clouds rolled in from the west, and rain began to fall steadily, making activities outside unattractive.
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So it goes.
I was OK, a little under the weather, and as I had not slept well, during the afternoon I took to bed with the digital radio so I could listen to the football. Everton thrashed Citeh. I mean, really hammered Pep and Co, 4-0. Who saw that one coming?
We eat dinner whilst the Man Utd v Liverpool played out to a 1-1 draw, and was very entertaining, from what I heard on the radio anyway.
As the evening wore on, my cold got worse, and is typical male behaviour, I got more despondent, more full of self pity. At half nine, we went to bed, with me in the spare room as I suspected I would be tossing and turning.
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