The bank holiday was a complete disaster. And it was not only that rain and no sun whatsoever. It was my flu-like condition. High fever, the strained muscles feeling all over my body. I just wanted to have a quiet time, preferably in bed, with a nice cup of warm tea delivered to me. Fat chance, wishful thinking, get real silly me. No down time for me when two kids are toddling around and their father is complaining of some vague pains and aches too. So he basically labelled himself 'unwell' and unfit to take over the 'madhouse' for a few hours.Then, on the last day of the bank holiday he left. To work. The children were quick to fall asleep. I could have an early night. Blissss.....not for long though,: my happy time ended in a burst of tears this morning when I woke up with my lips bursting with god knows how many blisters . They are all over. Like little beads lined along and around my lips.
Covered in tonnes of zovirax, I am now trying to have a bit of a sandwich, but I'd better settle for a drink with a straw. Am not sure though if I could do the spout with my lips necessary for sucking that juice..On second thought I will just go to bed.
In pain. Distorted. Ugly. Hungry..
OK there is a funny side to my facial tragedy. I have just looked at myself in the mirror in the dim light of the bathroom. And I discovered I have got Victoria Beckham pout. But without the trying...
may well just run downstairs to get the drink and straw. A pout -may be just as good as a spout.
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