She who can believe herself well, will be well.

 I'm doing my level best, Ovid.

 
“You don't need treatment. The fever, inflammation, coughing, etc., constitute the healing process. Just get out of their way and permit them to complete their work. Don't try to 'aid' nature. She doesn't need your puny aid—she only asks that you cease interfering,”says Herbert M Shelton.

Irony. For the past three days, I've never eaten so healthily. I expected to get headaches from giving up caffeine, alcohol and dairy products. What I didn't expect was to go down with a flu bug. Or something very close to it.

I actually think the two (detoxing and being ill) are not particularly related because I've got the same bug as loads of people in my circle of friends.



I think it's rather more something called Sod's Law...

Men make use of their illnesses at least as much as they are made use of by them.

Notice Aldous Huxley said 'men' not 'women'...

There, now I've made him despair. He's saying 'Duh! I didn't mean men as opposed to women, airhead. I meant men as in the human race.' Or something like that.

Have I been making use of my illness? Not really. I've carried on carrying on. The only thing I haven't felt able to do is train for the marathon. I've examined my soul and I do believe I wasn't fit to run. Cracked rib. Breathless. Flu. The hospital doctor told me not to run for two weeks...I was glad to have An Official Mandate so I didn't feel guilty.

I was wondering whether or not to pull out of the marathon altogether. It seemed just TOO hard to contemplate. Damn it. I WON'T.

So, today...soon...honest...I promise...back on the road. Not after two weeks but 9 days...

I can do this!

A week is a long time...

...not just in politics, said Caroline Coxon and Harold Wilson (British Prime Minister twice, during the 1960s and 70s.)

Harold Wilson also said '“I'm an optimist, but an optimist who carries a raincoat.”

 He could do with one today, that's for sure.


I was thinking that this time last week, we had just arrived back from our holiday (we as in Pete and I not we as in Harold and I. He's been dead since 1995 and that would be just too weird.) and I felt refreshed, relaxed and clear-headed, raring to go.


This week, I've been to hospital with breathlessness following on from a thumping ski fall when I hurt my ribs and now I seem to have caught Peter's flu-type coldy bug so I feel like...how can I put this politely?...

I won't even try.


My beloved brother was admitted to hospital with heart problems, son Tim hasn't been too grand, Pete's been ill in bed. The weather has reverted from mild spring sunshine to dank, windy, drizzling rain with the threat of snow, too.


Do I feel refreshed, relaxed and clear-headed, and raring to go any more?


No, I do not.


Am I a miserable old whinge who doesn't appreciate how lucky she is?


Yes, I am.


I do apologise.

Normal unrealistic and ephemeral optimism will be resumed tomorrow.