Monday, December 18, 2006

In Sickness and In Health

That phrase from the Marriage Service resonated strongly with me as I began to make my preparations for the next part of my pilgrimage to meet the Goddess. I was set to travel to Mid Wales to a friends fortieth birthday bash and thought I’d check out some sacred sites whilst there.

On the Monday before I was due to travel, in a moment of wobbly legged weakness, I fell over a pile of dislodged paving stones outside the gym. This heralded a set of physical circumstances which looked more and more likely, as the week went on, to threaten the whole trip. Cutting a long story short, by the next morning, my temperature was spiking and so was my temper! In a fit of peak, I cancelled the rest of my life and retired to bed to sulk.

By Wednesday morning n, the dreadful realisation dawned – not only had I contracted “Dyke flu”, but that it was readily manifesting itself into that most virulent of strains, “Butch Dyke Flu”!

Whilst not as serious as “Man Flu”, Dyke flu’s main symptom (aside from the obvious flu ones that is) is a deep sense of injury and much voicing in stout tones of outrage “but I *(never* get flu!” The sufferer refuses to shut up and submit to weakness for once. With the butch strain the sufferer is often seen to struggle out of bed and attempt to go about her daily business. Unfortunately this particular strain has a lamentable effect on the temper of the sufferer not to mention a rather peaky look.

By Friday, I was sufficiently well enough to contemplate the long journey without whining. I rose from my sick bed, packed and stumped jelly-legged off to the station and weaved my way unsteadily westwards.


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