OK, a tad melodramatic perhaps. But when people talk about nippers being like little germ factories, I didn't poo-poo. No, I could see the theory. Their rapidly developing systems chew up and spit out viruses at a rate of knots, the emphasis being on spit...
Still, I was ill-prepared for the full significance of this special power. This is all a very long way of saying that I have another cold. My fourth in three months. Sheeeeeeeit. As Clay Davis would say.
P was in France for a couple of nights at the end of last week, so R and I spent two days at home with Wallace and Gromit on DVD, sneezing and snotting over each other. On the plus side, all these colds seem to have improved my powers of recovery, and after a weekend of moping around the house, I am feeling much better. Thank you for asking.
We spent yesterday afternoon down on the South Bank wandering around, happy to be out of the house, watching merry-go-rounds and jugglers. There were also some people doing balloon modelling for children. When a very nice lady festooned with balloon animals and glittery make-up said hello to R from a distance of some ten yards, it was like watching an animal being struck with a tranquiliser dart. R's shyness began with her trying top bury her head in my lap, but soon moved on to total meltdown, as her legs bucled, and she ended up in a silent heap on the ground. I was almost convinced that she had developed sudden narcolepsy.
Once we had saved our precious from 'Scary Balloon Lady' (and she had ridden the merry-go-round), she recovered fully and we listened to the Croydon Male Voice Choir in the foyer of the RFH, before stuffing ourselves with cakes and juice/coffee. I wonder what she will make of it all when she looks back a few years down the line. I hope she won't have globophobia (fear of balloons). Or whatever the word is for 'fear of the Croydon Male Voice Choir. Imagine that coming up on day-time telly...
Still, I was ill-prepared for the full significance of this special power. This is all a very long way of saying that I have another cold. My fourth in three months. Sheeeeeeeit. As Clay Davis would say.
P was in France for a couple of nights at the end of last week, so R and I spent two days at home with Wallace and Gromit on DVD, sneezing and snotting over each other. On the plus side, all these colds seem to have improved my powers of recovery, and after a weekend of moping around the house, I am feeling much better. Thank you for asking.
We spent yesterday afternoon down on the South Bank wandering around, happy to be out of the house, watching merry-go-rounds and jugglers. There were also some people doing balloon modelling for children. When a very nice lady festooned with balloon animals and glittery make-up said hello to R from a distance of some ten yards, it was like watching an animal being struck with a tranquiliser dart. R's shyness began with her trying top bury her head in my lap, but soon moved on to total meltdown, as her legs bucled, and she ended up in a silent heap on the ground. I was almost convinced that she had developed sudden narcolepsy.
Once we had saved our precious from 'Scary Balloon Lady' (and she had ridden the merry-go-round), she recovered fully and we listened to the Croydon Male Voice Choir in the foyer of the RFH, before stuffing ourselves with cakes and juice/coffee. I wonder what she will make of it all when she looks back a few years down the line. I hope she won't have globophobia (fear of balloons). Or whatever the word is for 'fear of the Croydon Male Voice Choir. Imagine that coming up on day-time telly...
Leave a comment