Oo-err missus

I’ve been ill all week. I warn you, here and now, that I’m going to be very complainy moany whingey this week.

I had Freshers’ Flu in, well, Freshers’ week. That got better. But on Saturday I went to Hampton Court with Mummy and Daddy (had a scone, lovely), and I started coughing slightly. I was so tired I went to sleep on the grass in one of the massive gardens (imagine Versailles with someone taking a nap in the fountain, that’s how weird it looked), and when I woke up I was hacking my guts out. It was quite unnerving, gripping my neck in pain, while about 200 meters away from where Henry VIII decided to lop off Anne Boleyn’s head. Oo-err missus. (I’d quite like to bring that phrase back into usage, if anybody would like to help me? No?)

Anyway, I went back to uni and slept. Sunday, I slept ALL DAY. I have never slept so much in my life.

I have actually managed to go to lectures every time. I am so proud of myself for that: at school, there is no way I would have bothered. “Oh no, I seem to have dropped my toothbrush on my toe, I must go to bed and rest off this terrible pain instead of going to school”. But now it’s like, university, and all that. I have gone through two rolls of toilet paper (cheaper than tissues, a good student tip there!) and drunk about five litres of orange juice. Yes, I am the combine harvester of London town with the amount of fruit I shovel down when I’m sick.