drifting into the arena of the unwell
Today, I am ill.
Not sick, bitter and twisted as usual. But ill.
Virulent micro-organisms play havoc with my body. Hayfever, that bastard pollen. As a friend put it. "Being sexually assaulted by plants".
However, I struggle on. Without moaning. Apart from here, and no one reads this shite, of course.
Still, mustn't grumble, he said, his upper-lip stiffening by the moment. Which sounds almost rude, out of context. Remember, I am English - not just english, but English, and am therefore culturally, and biologically, incapable of being rude.
Just one of those things we have to live with, I suppose.
Not sick, bitter and twisted as usual. But ill.
Virulent micro-organisms play havoc with my body. Hayfever, that bastard pollen. As a friend put it. "Being sexually assaulted by plants".
However, I struggle on. Without moaning. Apart from here, and no one reads this shite, of course.
Still, mustn't grumble, he said, his upper-lip stiffening by the moment. Which sounds almost rude, out of context. Remember, I am English - not just english, but English, and am therefore culturally, and biologically, incapable of being rude.
Just one of those things we have to live with, I suppose.
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