B.U.G.

I intended to write about my usual busy, glamorous, jet-setting life-style this week, but the wheel came off the wagon as I got struck by a B.U.G.  That’s a Beastly Unyielding Germ.  Lots of B.U.G.’s in fact, as there’s always more than one. Yeah, right, know the type.  They gang up. Bullies. S’not fair.  There’s more of them than me.

As Lucy, who’s studying Biology informed me, the B.U.G.s multiply, then the antibodies kick in and the site of all this bio-chemical warfare (aka Me) is left feeling like a battlefield; sort of flat and chewed up.

I had all the usual symptoms as listed on the box of Tesco's Max Strength Cold And Flu capsules – tiredness, headache, copious amounts of self-pity – but what the box didn’t mention was a severe outbreak of Poetry.

I always asked the kids to share

Their toys, (when young) their books and hair

Products, such as spray and straighteners and shampoo

Unfortunately, they’ve also shared the flu.

I spent last week mainly in bed

With aching limbs and pounding head

Caught from my open-hearted daughter

But germs are things you shouldn’t ought-ter

Share.

It started with Jenny’s tonsillitis

I looked down her throat and saw what the plight-is

Or was; because she is now quite well

And I am feeling not so swell

Or great. Or good. Or fighting fit.

I don’t like this virus one little bit.

So having done naught* all week through

I’m rather apt to feel blue

I wish I didn’t have the flu.

*I know nobody says “Naught” anymore (if they ever did) but this Poetry, right?