Tuesday, 18 December 2012

And he will come on a pale horse, and his name will be Jonathan

I am feeling fifty shades of disgusting today. Sore lungs from coughing all day, headache, painful joints, and a sort of throbbing pain around the lower back. I have no truck with hypochrondia, so it's clear that I have Spanish Flu and I will die. Since everyone else is going on Friday too I'm not as bothered as I might be, but all the same it's a bit galling.

Today has consequently been a drudge of a day, dragging my corpse around by sheer force of will and holding it together with orange juice and croissants. It is the very glue of my being.

However, I had a couple of interesting blog posts to read which kept my spirits up as my body flagged. Kate, an old acquaintance from university, writes a lot about television. I try to live vicariously through her blog, because television is something I am sorely lacking here and the speed of internet is so bad that buffering a show may take longer than the length of the show itself.

The other blog I read this morning was by Alexandra, an acquaintance from long ago. If I say how long it makes me feel old, so let us say we have known each for some time. In any case, her blog is an interesting read, dealing with the ongoing struggle that being a girl is.

I'll just leave this here and tiptoe away then.

A comic there by potentially my favourite comic artist of all time, Bill Watterhouse. I'd really recommend getting his collections; you can pick them up from most bookstores and sometimes even charity shops.

In any case, it's just before nine but I'm crawling into bed and aching for a bit. If you need me, try me tomorrow.

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