I'm back. On Tuesday I did not get out of bed except to totter to the loo, or switch my laptop on or check my phone, so I did not post. On Wednesday I got up, feeling horrible, and did not post because I could not think of anything to blog about. Yesterday was similar, except that the cold was not as bad and I had begun to develop back ache from the cold plus too much lying down and sitting about. Very cautiously and with the Systems Administrator following behind I managed to drive my car to the garage because it was booked in for its annual service and MoT. I thought about the research that suggested that driving when you had flu was as dangerous as drink driving, and could not remember whether it applied to colds as well, and thought about postponing the service but was worried I wouldn't get another slot before the MoT expired. I thought a blog post about driving to Clacton and then sitting in a chair would be so boring I really couldn't be bothered to write it.
This morning I washed my hair for the first time since last Friday, having not been able to bear the idea of water coming anywhere near my head for the past week. Then the Systems Administrator drove me back to Clacton once I had finally managed to get into the car which took two goes since my back had stiffened so badly I couldn't duck my head under the door frame without sending it into spasm. The SA's car turns out to have dowager grab handles above the passenger doors. I never noticed them before because I never needed them. I guess this is a foretaste of what getting old will feel like.
The garage were sympathetic about the cold, and had even washed my car, which was good of them as it was incredibly filthy, and means I don't have to add it to my list of things to do. It slightly softened the blow of the advisory notice that sometime before the next service and MoT I am likely to need new tyres and various replacement bits of suspension that I had never heard of but which the SA assures me cars do have. The SA waited until I had climbed into my car, in case I couldn't, and then followed me home. It is a relief to have got the MoT out of the way, but I won't be driving anywhere else until my back loosens up due to the risk of (a) being unable to get out of the car (b) being unable to get back into the car (c) not being able to turn in my seat to check the traffic as well as I would like. The road to Little Clacton is fairly quiet out of the rush hour, but it doesn't do to make a habit out of that sort of thing.
Then I tottered to the post box in the hopes that a gentle short walk in the fresh air would help free my back, conscious that my posture and gait were entirely wrong. After all that I was tired and sat down back in the chair with Our Ginger and today's online Sudoku.
So that was my week, plans blown to smithereens, no gardening, no garden club, no tea party, no London lunch. No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women, no sin, no fun. The SA was quite relieved when I started to get irritable again. On Tuesday I didn't have the energy to complain, and the SA only really starts worrying when I stop grumbling.