Nangle Natters: Chilly gone barmy

So… the Queen had a cold over Christmas and I had a cold over new year. Not being in my ‘90s there wasn’t the same kind of concern over my health amongst the media, although Facebook was very supportive. I snuggled into my dressing gown and pyjamas, slapped a superhero movie I’d been given as a Crimbo present on the telly, Lemsip in a cup, and those all important soft-feel tissues by my side as co-pilot of the sofa. It’s only a cold. And we all know how to weather those.

Colds bring out the best in coping mechanisms. There are no antibiotics or special pills to knock a cold on the head. The only thing you can really do is stop what you’re doing, buckle in, and ride it out listening to your body like it’s the lyrics to your teenage crush’s latest chart hit with all the dedication of a 13-year-old in full-on devotion.

‘Only a cold’ has been the damning dismissal of this seasonal blight for a while, but in all fairness – as wretched as we might feel for a few days, usually it passes pretty swiftly once given the requisite down time. Besides which, the time immediately after all that hustle and bustle of Christmas and New Year is ripe for germs that have been waiting in the wings whilst I dash from pillar to post. Not driving might feel like a freedom for most of the year, but come train strike season merging smoothly into seasonal train-stop-altogether for Christmas, the lack of mobility steps up well as an emotional and physical petri dish for lurgies. I like my freedom of movement, dargnammit! Oh, and there’s the crotchitiness of feeling poorly too. Sorry about that.

‘Only a cold’ has been the damning dismissal of this seasonal blight

To be honest, after those few days of feeding a cold leftover Quality Street and little oranges from under a sofa blanket I’ve been feeling a lot better. And may I heartily recommend it as the correct action to take to all of you currently being hit by winter germs.

The point at which I definitively know I’m getting better is when I’m bored. And the point at which I know I’m actually better is when I start getting chores done again as a matter of muscle memory. I posted a late package yesterday that has been waiting since November. Things are looking brighter.