Close on the heels of The Season of Goodwill comes The Season of Coughs and Colds and Sneezes. Look! There are its adornments; the soggy balled up tissues, the Lemsip and the gaily coloured Strepsils.
All that camaraderie, hugs and kisses - seemed like a good idea at the time. But three days later - feeling like a plague victim, bug-eyed, sore-faced and snivelly - in retrospect a distance of arm's length or complete isolation would have been a better one.
I'm afflicted and it is not pleasant, although I have gained a voice that is deep and sexy. I lack both the energy and inspiration to go and chase the pheasants from the garden where they are pecking at the brassicas - in truth they are now so tame that they merely hop over the fence when Chester races by and hop back when he's passed to continue their grazing. I'm not much of a threat either - they know they're safe with me. There are 3 beautiful multi-stemmed birches to be planted too - but that's a job for another day.
Stop being pathetic woman! Get out there. On the field. Get some fresh air. Into your lungs.