Snuffling, sneezing, rasping, breathing rattling like a Gatling gun, stuffed up, bunged up bring me a hot cup of something beginning with cognac.

but it's better than it was.

now I'm through the worst of it, thank god and paracetamol.

'He's getting on and in his state you'd think he'd want a tete a tete with Doctor Bob,
( no rhyme intended but the inner voice is such a **** )

Saturday and at the crack
the dawn is laughing
I'm staying in bed.