Is it bad form to take a drink when you're ill? A hot toddy used to be part of the cold landscape... along with soup, pills and limited sympathy. Nowadays people seem to struggle through on a diet of lemsips and nightnurse. That can't be right, so I've been experimenting.
This was the exact moment when I realised I had flu. It was a few months back at a Bo-Concept party and had nothing to do with Micky's chat, honest. Despite consuming quite a few excellent cocktails, I felt exactly the same as when I'd arrived... which was distinctly weird. Afterwards, back home, despite my state, I really fancied a glass of something and cracked open this very nice present from Mr Y.
A velvet textured throat caresser whose gorgeous red fruit flavours made for the perfect medicine, somehow transforming the flu into a positive, warming and mildly psychedelic sensation. It was all rather lovely. Much better than Benylin, if a tad more expensive.
Then, a few weeks later, I woke up unable to put any weight on my left foot. If I did, an excruciating pain shot up to my eyeballs. I'm told it could have had something to do with my boots. Men's shoes are going the way of women's, style over substance. I managed to source a prop, it's always best to look the part.
So I lay around drinking poncy Chinese teas and waiting for my body to "heal itself"... but I'm very impatient and something kept calling me from the fridge.
It was just so much better than tea and pain killers. Within a sip I felt better, a few sips later and I was almost back to normal... talking non stop random nonsense to anyone who'd listen. I still couldn't walk, but that no longer seemed to matter.
Right now I've got a stinking cold. I've had a hot water and lime, a tea, several coffees and an egg... but I know there's something in the fridge again and I'm really craving a glass of it. It feels wrong, but why? Bubbly, chalky, sherbety, lemonyness... ice cold to sooth my coughed out throat. I decide to watch 'The Saint' as a distraction...
He's testing a miniature camera by photographing girls bottoms as they dance... you've got to love the 60s. This is proving a most successful diversion, but of course, I've completely forgotten that Simon Templar's Champagne habit was even heavier than John Steed's. The Saint pops his cork, on average, about three times an episode. Sure enough, five minutes after I sit down Mr Templar's calling room service... and I'm sprinting to the fridge.
"I say, a sharp, cheeky young thing that slips down a treat!".
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