I hate being ill. I mean, I know everyone does, but it just feels so unfair. I have too much to do to be ill.

Oh, by the way, I have a cold.

I know, right? I’m verging into man-flu territory here!

Actually, I hate having a cold purely because it seems so pathetic. It’s just a cold! And we berate men who make out like it’s life and death. Because it’s just a cold!

But sometimes it does just knock you for six.

I hate giving in and admitting defeat.

I hate calling into work saying I can’t come in because I have a cold. But if you’re veering through the temperature gauge and stripping off your clothes just or some relief; well some offices don’t like that.

Also the girl who sits opposite me is pregnant, so it’s not really fair on her for me to be spluttering in the vicinity of her developing child.

I’m so thoughtful.

I’ve spent the past 3 days in pyjamas at home. Which sounds dreamy, but is now just tiresome. Especially with a lap full of soggy tissues.

PJs and tissues

Husband is cooking dinner, which is lovely of him but I take exception to, because the kitchen is my domain (I know it’s old fashioned, but I feel it’s my job as a wife to cook for him. I make up for it by getting drunk at parties and being carried home).

I go to bed with my nose and mouth smeared in face cream to negate the sandpaper effect of tissues against my skin (I’m a very snotty person when I have a cold; it both amazes and dismays me how much of the stuff one person can produce). My hair is scraped back in a sweaty bun and my skin glistens with sweat. I’m so unattractive and I don’t care.

But tomorrow is another day. I’m done. I’ve given in to my change of season snot, indulging it in lazy days, afternoon naps and paracetamol every few hours, as sometimes you need to do in order to recover fully, and now it’s time for it to sod off. I don’t get paid for this shit (literally, because it’s a new job, I don’t get sick pay for the first year).

And I have gigs and clothes and food to blog about.

So thanks for indulging my whinging, and a big fat sneezy snotty sorry for being such a bore!

September Sadness

Try as I might, I can’t but help let my mood be affected by the time of year. And even though it’s just another date in the calendar, I always find myself feeling pretty sad at the beginning of September. It signals the beginning of the end of summer, darker mornings and nights, cooler weather, leaves falling off the trees, summer flowers dying, and the onset of winter.


I’m such a summer person. I’m truly at my best in summer. I love being outdoors, not wearing a coat, wearing sandals, days out.

I’ve seen a few blog posts over the past few days with people getting excited about the fact it’s September, because it means autumn and a change of season and Halloween and Christmas. Don’t get me wrong, I do like Halloween and Christmas. I think it’s just the transitional period when summer is on it’s way out and you’re still craving warm days and outdoor nights. I just can’t get excited about descending into coldness and darkness.

Its difficult to say goodbye to summer, especially when it hasn’t been so good this year.

Even worse, September so far seems to have struck with a vengeance this year – it’s not even a gentle decline into autumn so much as going to bed in August and walking up in November! Rain, clouds, temperature drops. I mean, come on!

On the plus side, I still have lots of nice summery stuff planned before I totally give in to autumn and it’s cold, damp, miserable clutches. Including a local festival this weekend, a long weekend in Cornwall, a road trip to a gig in Leeds, a wedding and a week in Italy.

On the negative side, when all that’s over AND it’s autumn proper I’ll probably be really miserable.

What’s your favourite time of year?