The first wave of Black Death to sweep through Britain, killing millions, started in 1348 when a sailor from France staggered down the gangplank in Weymouth, Dorset, and gasped weakly to the gathered dockworkers, “Gee fellas, I feel a bit crook.”
In a similar way, things started going downhill here about two weeks ago at Chez Greg n Doll when my dear wife mumbled one afternoon, “I feel a bit tired… might have a nap before dinner.”
“No worries O’ Light of My Life!” I replied, “I’ll go rummage up some vittles, cook them over the fire and serve them to you upon awaking!”
Or something like that.
I put her low energy down to our recent blast round Oz, followed by a fairly busy home/work schedule which allowed for little rest, some anxiety topped off with a couple of nights of poor sleep.
Nothing to worry about.
The horrors which have unfolded since have been… well, mild to honest.
Turned out Doll had caught: Da Da Daaaaa!
The Dreaded Lurgi!
Or a common cold for those of you who never got to listen to the hilarious Goon Show episode, ‘Lurgi Strikes Britain!’
You can listen/watch it here (funny, funny, funny!):
Anyway, Doll’s tiredness turned into the sniffles, which morphed into a niggly cough and worse, the draining of the few energy reserves she had left in her heavily depleted battery.
We’ve dodged a lot of illness bullets over the years, in spite of being around a lot of nice people who believe the best way to cure a cold or flu is to go to a crowded music venue and talk to people inches away from their faces.
Plus, we have grandchildren in school and daycare, which appear to be the dropping off places most parents prefer to send their kids too when they are sick as dogs. They like giving us hugs. Bless their runny little noses.
Honestly, it’s a wonder we’ve avoided being crook this long.
So, last weekend, I dressed up in my Nurse Ratched outfit and mooched about the house doing what needed to be done while my patient rested (and for those of you wondering, no, I did not take any photos of me wearing the outfit, but here’s a snap of go-getting Nurse Ratched for those of you who can remember her…)
Anyway, by Wednesday morning Doll was feeling well enough to mask up and perform in Rockhampton; and knocked it out of the park with the Almost Legends band.
I drove her up and back (even had a little sing and twang myself) and, later that evening, announced, “Gee Doll, I feel a bit tired.”
We thought nothing of it because, well, it’s been another big week.
By Thursday evening I too had succumbed to… The Dreaded Lurgi!
Me, and the team of doctors I’ve got working around the clock, are still baffled as to who I could have possibly caught it off?
So, I immediately cancelled any plans I had last weekend to scale Mt. Everest, finish writing some songs, catch up with the grandies, draft a plan for peace in the Middle East (basically, give everyone in the area six months to get out, then nuke the entire area and start again when the radiation eases off… in two thousand years or so), and, finally, sort and filing all the dockets, invoices and receipts from our recent tour.
‘Oh dear,’ I sighed with disappointment as I tucked away the crinkled paper bag we used to store our valuable book-keeping tax info in, ‘the accounting will just have to wait another week’.
‘Rest, and more rest,’ was what the nice Doctor had prescribed, after pointing out it had been over three years since my last visit and that it was high time for another round of blood tests, skin checks, other tests and more tests.
Tearing her hand from my t-shirt sleeve, I beat her out the surgery door, into the carpark and raced home where I plunked myself on the lounge, ignoring the calls from the Doctors’ office
‘It’s an ill wind!’ I thought as I tuned my guitar while the TV warmed up. ‘Time to catch up on some rest.’
Which is exactly what I did.
After changing the guitar strings, then the strings on my other guitar, downloading an e-book, reading it, writing a review, watching some old cowboy movies, pulling my electric guitar apart to find out why it won’t tune properly (yeah, that was fun), staring at the rain, sifting through all the urgent emails I’d been ignoring, eating too much and pouring a few, medicinal, throat clearing drams to… ah, clear my throat?
The tour accounting remains untouched as I don’t want to overdo things and risk getting sicker. I don’t get crook that often, and it’d be a pity to waste it sitting at a desk over piles of dockets suffering.
Unexpected Blessings
On Sunday morning I got a message from one of our neighbours. They’d cooked up a pot of chicken soup and were bringing it over. The message warned me not to meet them at the door, but to wait until they were heading back down the driveway until I ventured out to pick up the container.
Folks, it tasted so good I’m sorely tempted to pretend to be sick for a few more days just to get some more…
So, here we are, the start of a new week. The rain has returned, I’m feeling better and life goes merrily on.
We have gigs coming up next week which we’ll hope we’ll be back on top of things to perform at and, better yet, if anyone turns up with a cold or flu, we should be immune.
Happy Days!
Speaking of which, I think we’ll look through the round window this week to find…
Happy Snaps!
I dragged myself off my death bed to get some of these, so I hope you appreciate them you needy monsters!
Stolen from Substack
And remember, please, stay home if you’re crook!
Hey, thanks for dropping by! Let’s do it all again next week, but this time, With Feeling!
Cheers,
Gb