It feels like I've swallowed a cactus, like I've picked it up by the flowerpot and tipped the whole thing upside down into my gaping mouth, soil and all.
I'm annoyed because I've spent the whole winter deliberately keeping my nose warm. Viruses love cold noses - they get themselves airborne and then go nostril-hunting. I've wrapped my own hooter in a scarf, rubbed it with warm gloves, buried it inside my hood and kept it firmly out of other people's business.
Yet still it seems to have found a pesky little sore-throat virus, or something. I've had a Lemsip. I reckon they might be placebos, Lemsips. Throat sweets help, but as soon as they're gone, the papery cactus is back, growling and grovelling behind the old Adam's Apple.
I'll be alright tomorrow.
I say that a lot.
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