I’m writing this column in bed. It’s almost lunchtime and the sun is shining. However, it doesn’t seem quite right to go outside for a wander when you’re off sick.
There again, being semi-retired, I’m not really off work ill. There’s no sick pay to claim or colleagues to let down.
However, I have been ‘bilious’. That was the excuse my mother often used when I was sick off school. According to She Who Knows, who’s beside me now as I write, that was also her mother’s preferred excuse.
It covered stomach aches, nausea and much other childhood malaise. It also sounded more impressive than a mere cold and was easier to spell than diarrhoea. Yes, bilious did very nicely.
If we were spotted out and about when off sick there was trouble. That same illness ethic applied later when I began work. Even if recovered by evening, outdoors was strictly out of bounds.
It’s amazing how such sentiments become ingrained, as I feel guilty now not doing chores around the home. Also we’ve missed an afternoon tea dance, so I could hardly later inform She Who Knows, “I’m just nipping out for a pint.”
In any case, I don’t feel like one - as I’m bilious. It was possibly the rich meal I cooked last evening as a treat for She Who Knows, who’s been suffering some biliousness herself of late.
“There’s a virus going around,” said the girl at the chemist’s, when I was buying her medication.
The great thing is, though, I can write this column on a laptop in bed where She Who Knows, after bringing me some medication, is also using a laptop to play a game of bridge.
I’d forgotten how much fun it can be, being bilious but also tucked up cosily. Especially when, as now having finished this, I’m beginning to feel much better!
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