This week has been a harder one than usual, due to feeling rougher than a badger’s backside in wintertime. I’ve not been seriously ill – it’s been a heavy cold at worst, but it’s just hit me.
I think it’s been incubating since the weekend in Durham, where I got spectacularly wet and cold, and it all kicked in just in time for last weekend’s London trip. I know by the time I’d walked back to Barbican to pick up the car, I was pretty much shattered (which isn’t the normal state of things for having walked 15km) and Sunday was spent doing as little as possible as a result.
On Monday I was nothing short of a snot-fountain, but it had eased up a bit on Tuesday, and has been improving since.
I’m not normally one for popping pills for a cold, but in this case it was all sat in my sinuses, so I ended up breaking the back of it with hefty doses of Sudafed – and for once it’s worked pretty well.
I’m just about back to normal now (or at least my version of normal, before anyone else says it) so that’s counting as a win. But it’s not been a fun week all told.