I’ve been holed up for a week in bed with man flu. Not the swine flu, I’m still alive, but a far more deadly illness, the man flu.
People of the opposite sex would have you believe that the man flu is nothing other than a cough and cold and that other people take a lemsip and carry on. However female partners of the opposite sex simply have no idea how bad man flu is.
There is only one cure for man flu. Bed, hot drink, remote control and watching Jeremy Kyle, catching up with toss you recorded, and hoping for a good Rockford Files, Columbo Or Quincy, and hoping to god it’s not an afternoon of Murder She Wrote, Diagnosis Murder or other such lame detection.
Another advantage of being ill is that you have a legitimate excuse to avoid not only work, but also your friends. Avoiding your friends can occasionally be a mistake. I say occasionally, more often than not it’s the wise choice.
However one mate had bought me a present. A beer related present. He’d been abroad and bought the lads lager related fun. Now those sorts of mates are the mates you need in life. Something cold and refreshing for when my health returns. Which might be as soon as the improbably large can is cold enough. Ummm Lager.