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Shopping On The Nhs?



I'm almost up and running again, well up anyway! My nose continues to run and I have a nasty great cold sore right underneath my left nostril -- I'm sure in the old days I'd have been labeled a candidate for the Black Death, didn't they paint a huge X above the door? Anyway since my house needs a lick of paint, as long as they continue all round with it I have no worries.

The cough is still troublesome -- I hear my hubby moan and turn quickly over in bed when I go into spasm, like Yeah! I can help it Y'know.

This being ill isn't all it's cracked up to be and I don't do ill very well. As a patient I must be the model variety, as a moaner I must be a pain in the derrière. I just don't do ill!

Anyway to show the world I'm back, I've volunteered my services yet again -- going for my aunt this afternoon and treating her to an afternoon shopping -- there that should do it! If ever there was a cure, that sure would be it.. As my hubby said this morning "You love spending money don't you and wild horses couldn't hold you down on that one" Having thought for a while I came to the assumption that he was right, although I would never admit that in front of him when so many times I tell him that he's wrong. Funny housework doesn't have the same enthusiasm, that sure is a no, no when I'm out of sorts.

His last words before departing for work this morning were "Are you going to the doctor's for some more antibiotics?" I nodded my head unconvincingly. Truth is, I'd rather face an old grouchy teacher of mine than walk into her surgery again. My confidence is so low with my general practitioner it's like a premonition or de ja vu I know what she will say before she opens her mouth and it's always the same. Asking for antibiotics is like a lottery win and about the same odds! She doesn't give the blighters away that easily.

I'll give most things a miss today. Housework is way down on my priorities so is doing the washing. My therapy begins with purse in hand and a bag full of goodies. They should prescribe shopping on the NHS.

I look in the mirror, my hair looks like straw and I look like something out of a horror flick. Thank goodness for my daughter's make up, though this make over will be of catastrophic proportions. How to hide a cold sore and pale skin is yet to be explored. I'll start with my hair, a bit of gel will set it. Some nice perfume, antipersperant and my new jacket should do the trick. I ain't pretending that I'll look a million dollars but at least I might look like 50 pence, where right now I feel about 20.

A cup of coffee and I'll be off.


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