OK, at the moment I have the complexion of an uncooked currant bun, a basso profundo cough that Bryn Terfel would be proud to own and my hair, which has not been washed for four days, resembles that 
of Worzel Gummidge, but I am BETTER. What a relief to wake up this morning and find no temperature, no shivering, no wobbly legs and cautiously realising that all is back to normal and that, like the prisoners in Fidelio, I am emerging into the sunlight (metaphorically speaking of course, it is grey and dank at the moment with one of those fine penetrating misty showers outside) and that perhaps now I can get back to normal.
And as I feel I deserve a treat or even, treats, that is what I am going to give myself today. While scrabbling amongst my CD collection yesterday (I had a Mozart day as being most conducive to an invalid - no Wagner you have to be in rude health to cope with him otherwise you will have a relapse and end up in Valhalla), I discovered some startling gaps in my basic collection: No Beethoven Symphony No 4 or 1, No Tchaikovsky Symphony No 4 and of course, great swathes of Wolfgang Amadeus that I really should have. Well, cannot hope to plug all these gaps of course, but am going to pay a visit to a small, classic record store that opened in Colchester before Christmas and which really needs my custom and may make a purchase or two.
Then as I have a few Waterstone tokens left I feel I really must use them up, I don't like them languishing in a corner they need to go back home and, finally, those of you who read with relish my housework disasters of a week or two ago, will recall that my freezer slowly and inexorably defrosted over three days and all within had to be binned. I have not yet managed to refill totally so I intend to go into Marks & Spencer when I go into town today and spoil myself and buy loads and loads of their food (the only prepared meals I will eat are those from their lovely food hall) and also some flowers as my daffodils have keeled over and died in the night.
And after all that, I shall be totally exhausted and may just have to lie down again and this evening there is the Champion of Champions Dancing on Ice Special on TV with the wondrous Tornvill and Dean, the screaming audience, the six finalists of the last two series, plumped up cushions to recline on, the remote to hand, a bijou box of chocolates that I may just find irresistible in Marks this morning and really, now how can I put it:
It's All Too Much To Bear
But I shall try..........
PS My spell check on TORVILL has come up with the alternative TOENAIL.. Toenail and Dean - doesn't have the same ring somehow does it?
