Forwards and occasionally sidewards – everyday musings of life

I am utterly fed up with this cold dominating my existence. Am I making a mountain out of a molehill? Quite possibly. But after watching me survive a particularly violent coughing fit this morning, Karen was practically packing my bags for the local GP surgery. I’ve given my body a strict one-week deadline to sort itself out; otherwise, we are going to Defcon 1 and calling the doctor.

Of course, actually getting an appointment is a different story. Nobody visits the doctor nowadays unless they are practically crawling through the doors gasping their final breath. The security detail surrounding GPs—otherwise known as the receptionists—are more highly trained in threat denial and border control than NATO. My feeble chesty cough isn’t going to breach those defences. I’ll have to fight this one out in the trenches.

Consequently, I was confined to barracks in the caravan for the morning, catching up on admin and planning. Meanwhile, the real action was happening in the house, where work started on preparing the living room floor for its final covering: the house was strictly out of bounds.

Although the papers tell us we are still in the grip of “Heatwave 3.0”, the scorching temperatures have dipped over the last few days, replaced by a lovely, cooling breeze. It’s the absolute perfect weather for circulating colds, flu bugs, and general summer misery around the Pewsey Vale.

The sporting shock of the day, however, was France being knocked out of the World Cup Semi-finals, losing 2-0 to Spain. I suspect our French friends will not be ’appy with that result at all.