So my day of driving a white van has ended. Alas I didn’t get any pictures as:

1. I forgot my camera.
2. It was raining.

Let me qualify point 2. When I say it was raining I don’t mean a quick downpour, nor a mild shower, and I’m not sure that “cats and dogs” covers it sufficiently. No, it was teeming, pouring, tumulting (?), and generally lashing down with the fury of a god that has been dying for a pee for weeks.

Aside: Did anyone else get that story, from an uncle or cousin, when they were younger? The one about rain being when God had to go to the bathroom? Just me, then.

We tried to time the loading and unloading of the van for the brief pauses when it was “only” raining, but most of my day was spent wishing I had lifted my waterproof jacket, and wringing out the sleeves of my jumper. Still, we got everything done, and having picked up the van with an empty fuel tank, it was with some glee that, as I neared the drop off point, the low fuel light came on.

Driving home last night I noticed a distinctly raw feeling when I swallowed, and at around 2am I woke up unable to breath through my noise nose (although “noise” might have been more apt).

Yes, I do believe we have the beginnings of man-flu.

Paracetemol, Vitamin C and Euchinasia have been drafted in for the battle but tomorrow evenings jog looks a long way away at the moment.


Sympathy please. Ta.

Written By

Long time blogger, Father of Jack, geek of many things, random photographer and writer of nonsense.

Doing my best to find a balance.

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