Paracetamol and Deep Fried Haggis
NOT that I am moaning…
Okay I am, and I have nothing to moan about in the grand scheme of things, or even the limited scheme of things. But I might as well irritate my dear readers, dear reader, as much as myself and long-suffering husband.
I have an annoying cough. It’s one in a long line of dull and insignificant symptoms in a half-hearted virus type vague sort of under-the-weatherness I have been having this week.
Not that you’re interested (or you shouldn’t be. This does not count as a valid complaint) , but I have had a sore throat, no voice, random temperature and nausea. But, in no way did it count as an actual illness. In no way did it anything like warrant a day off work.
Just a trio of days in work feeling rubbish, but not rubbish enough to mention. (I did, though.)
So, forgive me.
The interesting thing was… that one of the lowest points of the week was when I was working late (which involved a lot of talking and a lot of black tea) and then had a band rehearsal (which was lovely and didn’t require me to say much – which, I can tell you – would be a relief to my poor band-mates, despite the fact that I did manage to squeeze out a few verbalisations for the greater good…)
The point is, I felt rubbish. So, before band, I thought to myself: HAGGIS SUPPER.
But then, at the chippy I thought, no, steady on, FISH SUPPER. So I got a fish supper, downed a couple of paracetamol and went to band.
Thing was, the very next day on my “Time Hop” app, my Facebook status on that day some year/years ago was “Haggis and Paracetamol”.
It must be a late-November thing…