Eternal phlegm

I was supposed to be fixing the toilet at my hairdresser's this morning (now there's a job where I shouldn't have to supply my own old towels...), but instead I am lying on the sofa with a tissue stuffed up each nostril, a bubbly ear and a brain as fuzzy and distorted as a 1970s television with its magnets on the blink.

I am just ill enough not to be able to do anything today apart from get bored, drink Ribena, and generally feel sorry for myself, but just not ill enough to avoid going into the office tomorrow.Short of full-blown influenza, there's no avoiding that To Do list, but I will be grumpy as hell and heavily Lemsip-dependent all the way to the weekend. I've been here before, I know how it goes. It's a waste of sunny term-time... the outdoor pool will soon be full of pesky kids all day long. I am also not painting walls or planting crocosmia. I am just lying here, one day closer to death, producing fluids that serve no purpose in staggering quantities.

The only bright spot on the horizon is The Wire Series 2, which plopped onto the doormat this morning. It was £8 cheaper to buy it online, but the wait nearly killed me. I am wondering what's the earliest time one can decently start watching TV when one is a bit ill? Six o'clock?

joella