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I feel rotten. Following on from the gastric flu, I now have a stinking cold (or a respiratory infection) as I prefer to call it. The infection has now found its way down to my chest - not too difficult a journey for the bloody germs, I suppose – and now I am coughing. I’m just hoping the urinary tract isn’t next. If that happens this bloody thing will have affected every bodily orifice. If I had a thermometer I would take my temperature. I wish I were working – then I could have a day off.
Yesterday I asked Carmen to take my photograph (with my new camera). In the grounds, sitting on a bench by a tree. She made three attempts before she got it right. ‘I’m a dozy cow,’ She said.
I didn’t argue.
You may think it vain, asking someone to take your photograph. But there was a reason. And it was not because I had had my haircut the same morning. (Remember I told you that we have a lady hairdresser who comes regularly and sees to our tonsorial needs.) It is to prove that I am here – that I really exist. And why should I need to do that? Well, that is something I will get around to telling you. I just don’t know how to do so at the moment.
Where are you Anna? Is it because I have this infection that you don’t want to write?
A sick George
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
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2 comments:
I've had a cold, too, and now I've got a chest infection. Coughing my bloody guts up. Did I catch it from you?
No, RJ, you could not have caught it from me because I smear that special hand gel stuff on the keyboard each time before I use my laptop.
More likely you have contracted this virus somewhere in downtown Decatur.
By the way, I was viewing some photographs, and it looks to be a fine city.
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