Sniffle
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Just in time for holiday, I’m starting with a cold. I’m fighting back with Berocca, but it seems quite insistent.
If the old wives’ tale about going out in the cold and wet had a shred of truth to it, I’d blame it on the weather, which really can’t decide what it wants to do. Got caught in the middle of a teriffic storm coming back from dim sum at lunchtime, having set out in sunshine so bright and warm I actually felt stupid wearing my coat.
The post-lunch fortune cookie was strangely prophetic: ‘It is an ill chef who cannot lick his own fingers’.
On a brighter note, my new camera has arrived. It came yesterday, but I was out last night with Mark and the ladies, so left it in the office to be on the safe side. We went to Porters, to re-live old times in the deserted basement, and then on for Spiga for gorgonzola bread, and pizzas the size of dustbin lids.
Again, we got caught in the pouring rain when we came out, and slowly edged our way back to the station in two clusters, sheltering beneath brollies to small for more than one person.
So, let’s hope it all clears up by the weekend. Two more days of work, then one day at home, then off and away, and I don’t want to be taking tissues and tablets in my bags.
If you liked that post, then try these...
Tick tick tock on January 19th, 2002
Edinburgh Hogmanay on January 2nd, 2006
Hiding cats on August 11th, 2002
Milan on March 9th, 2002
007 card on January 13th, 2003
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