Monday, 23 May 2016


I have the lurgy.

The lurgy that makes you incapable of doing anything with any alacrity. My eyes feel like I've cried a thousand tears. My nose is in competition with Coco the Clown. My hearing is as blocked as the M25 and my head has 30 hammers hammering their way to France.

Real work is an issue in reality, I ought to be at home in bed.
But no, I have to be a hero. I drive to work, resisting the temptation to stop and barf or just turn around and go home.

On arrival, tea and toast fail to make me feel any better. Neither does an eyeful of the half decent postman in the area who drops my post in with a cheery hello. I just snivel.

I'm feeling like I'm close to having manflu. But no, I can't be can I?

I endevour to set up some embroidery but my natural spirit-level is playing games and the bubble is just coming out my nose and not sitting in the nice middle place it normally is. If I carry on, I'm going to ruin something, if not all of this clients order.

So another cup of tea and conveniently a visit from Micky Muppet the local mechanic with a Penguin. Sadly chocolate and tea doesn't make the grade either, but it was a nice try.

I switch of Milo the embroidery machine and take to the computer. At least I can sit and do something that doesn't require my snotty spirit level to be functioning perfectly.

Social media. That will do it. Time to crank up my on line statuses and see what can be developed from it.

5 hours..yes 5 hours later and I've tailored all of my faces with my twits and pins, stuck a load in the tumblr and telegrammed and intragram wishing happy birthday..oh wait, wrong thing...anyway.. then ive google plused and website linked, pressed my words and crammed most of them into hootsuite.. oh and sorted my Saatchis and print POD's..I think.

I've waded through half a box of tissues that now sit glowing in a darkened corner like kryptonite and have so many tabs open that google is sagging under the strain.

The sun is shining and I'm not.

Time to go home and try to live up to the image of the lady in bed with a delicate tissue...It's not going to happen.

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