Lurgi

No wonder I've been feeling out of sorts for the past couple of days. My recent mild sense of disconnectedness and distraction has morphed into a nose that was not so much running as speeding, sore throat, mild fever, and general feeling of malaise, as in run down - by a truck. One of the many seasonal lurgi has come to call. Nothing major, just enough to put me off my game for a while. The fever broke about half an hour ago, potions have been employed, and full health is but hours away.

Although you wouldn't have thought I was poorly at work today, hands and body just got on with things whilst Mr Brain took a day off. Fortunately most of todays tasks did not require any high level cogitation, or dealing with less than forgiving mortal mouths, and I could just wing it in comfort.

Passed an exam with flying colours yesterday, despite feeling slightly crook. Probably got a higher mark because I went through the whole thing twice, just to be certain. Still kicking myself over two silly mistakes, but when it comes to real life, I don't miss much so I'm not really fussed. Another piece of paper, and something I can use as leverage for a rise. It's all good. I've got another test on Friday, not such a hard one, but still tough enough to keep me on my toes. A quick skim through the text book at bedtime tonight should be sufficient to load the neurons with the necessary patterns to recognise. The rest, as they say, will be in the lap of the examiners.

Can't be arsed with all the idiocy in the news. I'm sure theres a lot of stuff flung out into the public domain just to see who bites, and at the moment I'm simply not that interested. Got told I was 'another weirdo' who didn't watch TV, by guess who, another self confessed non-TV watcher. Although I think he was kidding me, but I was too foggy headed to care.

Still tripping over boxes of 'what the hell did we ship this for'? My mother has for some reason packed two of my Dad's old golfing trophies. Maybe it's a hint, although I still share Sam Clemens opinion that Golf is a waste of a good walk. Whenever asked by a golfing friend what my handicap is, I always answer truthfully "My Swing." Well, you're good at what you do well, and golf will have to remain one of those things I don't do well. Many small white balls may have reason to be truly thankful for this small mercy.

Tried out my small hunting bow, only to have the old bowstring go 'kerchiong' on me at full draw sending the bow leaping out of my hand to bounce off the wall nearly twenty feet away. Well, it had been in store for the past four years, I suppose the damp must have got at the Dacron bindings. Mrs S gave a shout (God alone knows why, she was in the next room), and I retrieved my 45lb draw toy with a slight expression of embarrassment. I suppose the local Deer will be safe until I get a new bowstring made and shot in properly. That will have to wait for the weekend.

Time for bed.