I think I must officially claim to be the first woman, ever, to have had man flu. It’s lasted two weeks and, according to my nearest and dearest, I’ve moaned throughout that fortnight non-stop.
Well, why not? It’s been horrid. And everyone else moans.
But now, thank goodness, I’m beginning to feel a titchy-witchy weeny bit more perky. Though I still have sudden attacks of what I dimly remember a Belgian friend calling a ‘coup de plomb’, or attack of lead. You may know the feeling. You’re bobbing along fairly well, just tootling about your own business, when suddenly you feel as though you have lead weights on your eyes. You’re so exhausted you could drop off right there, whether ‘right there’ is at the wheel of the car (eeek!), in the supermarket (not so surprising) or in the middle of an important meeting (I should be so lucky).
I’ve just got to get that under control, then I’ll be ready to face the world again. Bear with me.
