I thought I was nearly better yesterday, so I ventured into work today just to realise I'm not that much better at all. I feel as rough as a badger's ballbag. So, despite all your 'Get Well' messages, I'm still ill, but thanks anyway. What is worrying about this illness is a weird new symptom I've discovered. My elbows are spotty. I don't know what this signifies. I have all the other 'fluey stuff ie. snot, cough, phlegm and aches, but spotty elbows are a new one on me.
Yesterday, as you all know was St. Valentine's Day, a day made famous by a massacre. Me and the missus don't generally make much of a fuss on Valentine's, but this year I thought I'd treat her, especially after the care she took of me during my illness, so I bought her a nice new bag and a new belt. When I gave them to her, though, she went mental and didn't speak to me all day. Still, the hoover works a treat, now.
Not really. We really don't make much of a fuss, but we do generally get each other a prezzie, have a nice meal, and spend the evening together. This year, however, the light of my life told me she was going to spend St. Valentine's evening in the company of a psychic. How romantic. These people are shysters. You've just got to look at Derek Acorah (see below). They never tell us anything good, like the winning Lotto numbers, or the winner of the Cheltenham Gold Cup, they just tell us sub-horoscope "you'll meet a tall dark stranger" cobblers, and pretend it's not them making it up, it's your dead relatives telling you a revealing truth. Which is a load of shit. I can't believe in an afterlife , and if there is one, I don't reckon it's full of spirits desperate to tell their living relatives that the lamp found on the skip is worth a lot of money. Why otherwise intelligent people want to waste their money on this crap is beyond me.
Anyway, The psychic eventually cancelled (unforeseen circumstances? Her powers are weak!) so we watched a scary film about a psychic with the kids instead, and had our nice evening after all.