I can take a hint

Thursday May 11 2006

Sitting in the sun outside the holiday club washeteria while I was waiting for the machine to finish Maytagging my first load, I listened to my chest whistling happily away under its bubbly load. Oh dear. I coughed discretely into a double paper handkerchief and resigned myself to the knowledge that, while I’ve successfully shucked off the cold, it’s left me with a chesty legacy that’s not going to be so easy to shift. I’ll nip in to the pharmacy in Williton tomorrow and beg a powerful bronchial mixture. If that doesn’t fix it then on Monday I shall have to seek out a doctor who’s willing to prescribe antibiotics.

Here’s a not-for-the-squeamish tip for UK residents in a similar situation. When you visit the doctor, don’t call it a cold or cough, tell ‘im you’ve had a cold and it’s left you with a touch of the bronchials. And when he asks what colour is your phlegm, say it’s greenish, and painfully thick. Providing you can produce a decent whistle when he listens to your chest, you’re just about guaranteed to get antibiotics. They’re not so keen to prescribe antibiotics on first consultation these days so you need to help them along a bit.

That’s me for the next three or four days, then, battling the bronicals once more. Don’t feel sorry for me—it’s my just reward for all those years of heavy smoking.

Still working an eighteen hour day, Graham is fighting his own battle, with the major wearies.

“Oh well,” I said, between coughing sessions. “Only two more days of the trannies and then you’ll be able to catch up on your sleep. You’ll be fully recharged by Monday or Tuesday and, hopefully, I’ll be clear of the bronicals by then so’s we can go out and find that perishin’ house together.”

“We’re a right pair of invalids, aren’t we?”

“Well, we’re a right pair, that’s for certain.”

Dolly came plodding into the living room from her warm nest in the bedroom end of the caravan.

“Hiya, Dolly,” I said. “Which one of us are you going to comfort with a good cuddle, then?”

She snorted her disdain, stood in the doorway into the kitchen, and glared balefully in the direction of the cold water tap.

“Ok. I can take a hint.”



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s