A much better night’s sleep, at least by my low standards, not least because I was so knackered. The new and continuous cough has all but disappeared and although my nose is slightly bunged up, I felt a lot worse than this during my recent episode of Man Flu AKA a common cold. This could mean only one thing: I have now recovered from Covid and soon can resume normal life. All I need is a negative lateral flow test. Now where are the kits?
Over-optimistically, I carried out a thorough test expecting a different outcome from yesterday and inevitably two red lines immediately appeared on the testing device. I feel much better but sadly I am still infectious.
To be honest, I’m glad – if that’s the right word – to have Covid in late winter and not at a time when, say, I’m about to go on holiday or attend a gig I’ve been waiting years to see. Apart from ruining my father in law’s Christmas present – we were supposed to be taking him out for a lush meal on the day I succumbed – I’ve merely been prevented from going to Sainsburys. It’s not exactly a major hardship, when you think how many people have suffered terribly. This is just a nuisance, an irritation, a mildly aggressive wasp in a pub garden.
Had I got Covid 18 months ago, when none of us were jabbed, who knows how I would be feeling today? It could have been as mild as this but it could have been much worse. Boris Johnson, who is quite a bit younger than me, almost died of Covid. Maybe I too could have ended up in ICU? Perhaps one difference between Johnson and me is that whilst like him I spent a fair bit of time during lockdown on the piss, I did mine at home and not at illegal parties. I suppose some people will claim that Johnson’s ‘You must stay at home’ advice worked, even if he paid no attention to it himself.
Anyway, time to look forward. Another Covid test tomorrow awaits and maybe those bastard black dots floating around my Man Cave will have flown out of the back door. It seems like that the ICU can wait for another day.
