The usual

[radegund]

Once again, for the record, the familiar refrain: I aten't dead.

Let me rephrase that. I aten't entirely dead.

I am, however, not long recovered from a nasty bout of what's commonly known in these parts as the Winter Vomiting Bug. One hears about it on the news every spring, how it's rampaging through Irish hospitals yet again, causing not usually very harmful but pretty unpleasant and widespread mayhem. And since my inhabitant has made me, unusually, a frequenter of hospitals, I picked it up.

In fairness, I was only actually Winter Vomiting for a day. Couldn't keep anything down other than boiled water - not even filtered. Graduated to dry white toast and (ick) flat 7Up (ick), then slowly ventured into a more varied dietary landscape (you know, buttered toast, tea, eventually fruit and yoghurt) over the following days - all the time keeping a close ear on the roilings of my gut. It took days for the dizzy collapsings to abate. It's the sickest I've been in years, and I'm very glad it's over.

Missed four days of work, which will make the next couple of weeks somewhat panicky (work's convoluted in all sorts of ways at the moment), and although I was in on Friday I really wasn't in full working order. This week contains two important meetings, for which I am very badly prepared. So it's a pity, all things considered, that my system chose last night to send me a bout of vicious insomnia. I am not a perky Radzer today, my friends.

While I was recuperating I regressed to an earlier stage of my life, in which knitting while reading P.G. Wodehouse or listening to Radio 4 was the most appealing prospect on offer. I surprised myself by not going near the computer all week. So I'm way back at skip=nine-million-and-two on my Friends page, and I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't manage to catch up before next week.

For we are off to Connemara on Thursday for the annual Mad Easter Holiday. Last year's accommodation turned out to be offensively, depressingly suburban, so this year we're going Back to Basics. I mean to say, dash it all, no dishwashers. Expect me next week, windswept and smiling.

Comments

[radegund.livejournal.com]

I doubt it, but thanks for the sympathy! The doctor (at my routine check-up this morning, at which everything was deemed to be beetling along nicely, incidentally) says that insomnia is a common side-effect of pregnancy. Apparently it's one of the things that Thalidomide was diagnosed for. *shudder*

[niallm.livejournal.com]

Beetling. Such a PG word!