Blossom: and now for a whinge

I would love to wax lyrical about all things shop - especially as it is Spring, our favourite time of year at Shoppie.

We're not kidding: look at this.

Bluebells ...

Flowers ...

More flowers, singing birds ...

Juan and Juanita the Hallowe'en flamingos, who only come out occasionally and love basking in the Spring weather and admiring the flowers.

However I'm not in the right state of mind to carry on about flowers and other nice things as I'm currently at home with a VAST STREAMING FLU. A flu sufficiently virulent that I haven't really slept for three nights, and my doctor sweetly but firmly instructed me to just avoid humanity for a while (unless I can get full biohazard suits into Darling Central, and we don't have the wholesale account - sorry).

So I'm sat on the sofa instead hugging Darling Dog and a box of tissues, folded up around a mug of Lemsip trying to breathe the steam and regretting that I may have to leave Friday opening entirely to our beloved Flamingo, Miss Jasmine.

Miss Jasmine is well up to any challenge; I'm just sad to not be there with her because she's such fun to be around.

I am not fun to be around. Even Darling Dog is looking a bit grossed out by my World Of Used Tissues, and she's a dog.

I'm also sad because my during-the-week job ('The Factory' as I shall call it) is generally a great place to be, with likeable colleagues and interesting things to do, and I'll have missed a whole week of it. Including the Festival of the Fascinator (Melbourne Cup) which happened yesterday as I was half-dozing on the sofa and trying to get up the energy to either listen to the race (failed) or stick on a DVD (failed).

Mind you - sticking on DVDs is fraught with peril in this condition. I eventually managed to watch a bit of my 'Are You Being Served?' box set late yesterday and - there is not a word of a lie here - I laughed so hard at one episode that I wept ... sort of choke-cried. It took ages to mop myself up afterwards.

Pathetic isn't it? Normally I'm quite good at Caring For Invalids (even when the Invalid is myself) but there's something about a really good dose of flu that reduces us to quivering heaps of misery. It probably doesn't help that all I've managed to eat today is a single slice of Vegemite toast, and it's now lunchtime and I can't think of anything I fancy. Me - Mrs Healthy Appetite! Even though my freezer is stuffed with lovely home-cooked single-serve delights just waiting for the microwave: minestrone soup, lentil soup, beef and vegetable stew, all bursting with flu-fighting vitamins.

I think I could just about manage a cup of Bovril.

A steaming hot mug of Oh-just-snap-out-of-it-you-big-wuss.

Enough - you've probably read sufficient about my flu misery. I think it's time for a beef tea and another go at the British Comedy. Do you think I can retain my dignity after an episode of 'Dad's Army'?

No, neither do I ...

Yours charmingly (achoo!)
Blossom