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Ouch! I Hurt… But its better than it used to be

Well I woke up this morning and felt like I had been run over by a steamroller during the night. I guess it’s to be expected, its that time of year again that the flu virus loves. Cold Temperatures, Public Transport packed with Christmas shoppers all create a perfect breading ground. As if that is not enough I had Glandular Fever when I was younger and it does tend to rear its head every now and again especially when another virus attacks. My throat feels like it has been sand blasted and no amount of water will make it go away. I am running a temperature and every bone in my body aches. I have just gone through a period of stress (even though I won’t admit it). The end of my week is usually Wednesday for me, so it stands to reason that it has taken until now to manifest itself. Well that’s it then, I will have to drink my own body weight in Lemsip’s, drink lots of water and take Ibuprofen tablets until I start to rattle when I walk.

The thing I hate most about being struck down like this is the memories it evokes. It reminds me of the bad days. Waking up in some car park, shaking and feeling all of the symptoms of the flu. Deep down inside I knew that I needed a Drink, I would scrap around in my worldly goods (all in a rucksack) looking for that half bottle of Vodka that I kept secret yesterday. The first sip would make me reach, the second sip would have me running for the nearest bush so that I could bring up what little was in my stomach (mainly bile). My eyes would be streaming and my nose would be running as I headed back to my makeshift bed. Where I would roll a spliff with what I had left from my ten quid baggy. The spliff would seem to help me a little and I would be able to recover a bit, gently sipping the Vodka until all the nasty memories about how I actually got here would fade a little. A final spliff and a final sip of Vodka and I was ready to pack away my cardboard and sleeping bag and head for the convenience store that I had a special deal with (they would sell me Alcohol at six in the morning if I did not drink it near the shop). Seven, Eight, Nine counting the hours away until I met up with my drinking buddies. They would have gone through the same type of cycle, just needing to get that alcohol down there necks and have it stay there. This would have represented a typical ‘good’ morning. I won’t tell you about the bad ones.


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