Monday, September 17, 2012

Nothing

Lungs like toast.

Tight cough with a sore throat.

Head, on the verge of exploding through unprecedented internal sinus pressure.

Still, we men don't like to complain about our illnesses.... we just quietly go about our daily lives and continue to fulfil our roles in society as best we can.

And so it comes to be, that despite all common sense, I'm heading down to the pub for a short, sharp four hour stint at the coalface of refreshment provision.

I dare say that nobody will even notice I'm ill nor ask me how I am feeling, so well do I cope with such adversity.

What a trooper I am!

Harebell amongst the sand dunes

10 comments:

  1. Chin up Mr Fox, or may I call you Arctic?

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    Replies
    1. if you pay enough you may even call me Shirley!

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  2. Lungs like toast, sore throat, cough, head-pressure - aren't those the first symptoms of the male menopause? Have you found yourself suddenly weeping for no apparent reason recently?

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    Replies
    1. only whilst watching celebrity masterchef!

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  3. That's a relief! For a moment, I thought you were from Lancashire - or even worse - "Down South" but your willingness to go to work when you are clearly dying - or maybe even dead - proves beyond doubt that you are a Yorkshireman.

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  4. Is that harebell amongst the sand dunes supposed to be a metaphor for you behind the bar?
    Plenty of hot toddies - whisky, lemon, honey and hot water - in quantities to suit your taste - that's the answer. Get well soon.

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    Replies
    1. you have been poorly alot recently AF
      are you getting enough sleep?
      (he says aking AF SOME chicken soup)

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    2. hot toddies I CAN do..... (although I've run out of whisky and have subsequently been making them with brandy or rum) but chicken soup (albeit virtual) I can't do...... meatless fox for the last 20 something years.... I do appreciate the sentiments though :)

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