How much do I not want to be sitting at this computer today?
Where would I rather be? The South of France, New York, a Hawaiian beach? Nope. I really, really want to be curled up in my scratcher under my cosy duvet, surrounded by boxes of extra-strong, super-soft paper hankies and packets of anti-flu tablets.
You see, as of Monday, I’ve joined the ranks of the Covidians, zapped by the infernal bug; well and truly wabbit and feelin’ affa sorry for masellie.
I knew it would hit me sooner or later. My daughter, her brood and my best pal are just about the only ones I know who haven’t yet had it. Even though most folk said it was no worse than a cold, I’ve been dreading it and aye careful to wear a mask. After all, I’m knockin’ on a bit, breathless at the best of times and, curses, a year away from that second booster.
It all started so happily, with my quine, granddaughter and me headin’ doon to the beach on Sunday for the Inversnecky Special Breakfast. The sun was shining, but it was pretty damnt North Sea baltic.
The girls went on a pucklie high rides at Codona’s, then home to warm my cockles. Sadly they didnae toast affa fast. In fact, I went into a dose of the shivers. By 9pm, when I lowered my heidie, my nose actually poored like a tap. On with the electric blanket and into bed, the thought just beginning to cross my mind that this could be… it?
It’s like Niagara Falls up my schnozzle
Due to look after my granddaughter Monday morning, I up early – feeling utterly lousy – and tottered to do a test. What a ficher the whole palaver is. But I had more than enough liquid on my swab thanks to the Niagara Falls up my schnozzle.
Never mind wait half an hour, after less than 10 minutes I could see the ominous shadow of a second line. Mummy, daddy, fit-‘il-I-dee? Fa’ hid I been in contact wi’ recently to warn them?
Would ye credit this – it was the only folk I knew who’d escaped Covid so far; my quine and my best pal, who also just happened to be in the Inversnecky on Sunday. Nae real, is it? Fit’s the chunces?
This week, the Scottish health bods have issued an ‘updated’ list of symptoms, most of which I can, unfortunately, tick
Ah, but where did I get it? I can only think it was when I saw Chicago at His Majesty’s last Thursday. I meant to wear my mask throughout but, once I started beltin’ oot All That Jazz, it just got shoved in my pocket. Serves me right for ruining the show for all my near-neighbours.
This week, the Scottish health bods have issued an “updated” list of symptoms, most of which I can, unfortunately, tick. Shivery, streamin’ nose, achin’ a’ ower, sore throat, slight cough, tight chest, exhausted and, sorry about this, diarrhoea.
But why be a Moanin’ Mo when, without the miracle of the vaccine, I could be an awful lot worse? And I’m delighted to say my sense of taste is undiminshed. I summoned the energy to make a pot of Cullen Skink the other day and it was utterly delish!
Moreen Simpson is a former assistant editor of The Press & Journal and started her journalism career in 1970
