Monday 16th January 2017

Reading yesterday's post, I think we can agree I was in the final stages of terminal man-flu. And as ever, you really only know how crappy you felt, because how much better you feel the next day. And although I am coughing like Tony, I do feel better.

So, that's good news.

However, it does mean I have to write about yesterday, today, which means me trying to describe how shitty I felt whilst feeling better.

I woke up at just before one on Monday morning, not being able to breathe, and with Scully happy sleeping beside me, quietly purring. Sleep is not going to come for hours, so I get up, make a hot lemon drink and take to the sofa to watch some recorded football, quietly like so Jools won't hear.

At three I go back to bed to try to sleep, I toss and turn for at least an hour, probably more. Next thing I know is that Jools is up and it is twenty past six. I feel like, like shit. There is no other word. Jools brings me a coffee so I sit in bed to drink it.

She has to leave, so I have the house to myself and the flu. I have a meeting to attend to at eight, so I decide to attend that and sort through mails, and then take things easy.

I make a pot of paprikash through the morning. Its a recipe from another time, relationship I had, and I really fancied the taste of paprika. Anyway, deciding it needed more gravy/sauce, I add some red wine and beer to the mix and allow to boil down as the meat and onions cook.

Instead of being dark red, the sauce/gravy is nearly black, and over time the flavour fades, leaving just blackness.

In the afternoon I take to bed, and am joined by Scully who nestles up to me and is very happy indeed. I don't sleep as the blocked nose comes back making sleep impossible. Bah.

At four I get up, still feeling crap.

I boil some pasta at half five, so to be ready for when Jools comes back along with the warmed-through paprikash. It was a disappointment for me, but nearly there. Next step is to get some proper Hungarian pepper, nothing else is the same. Anyway, with a hot meal inside me, I feel better, and so we sit down to watch the last episode of Sherlock, which is a bit of a mess if I'm honest, but it fills 90 minutes and stops me thinking about how crappy I feel.