A new and continuous cough

After two years of managing to avoid Covid-19, and almost convincing myself I was immune, at 5.15am on Sunday 30th January 2022, I woke up with ‘a new and continuous cough’. After struggling and failing to get back to sleep, I eventually staggered downstairs to take a lateral flow test which I knew would yield a positive result. Within seconds, and for the first time after taking scores, maybe hundreds, of tests over the last 18 months the red line appeared by the ‘T’ on the testing kit.

God knows how many people I infected last night on the bus and in a couple of pubs in Bristol’s city centre when I felt perfectly fine. It’s likely that I picked it up earlier last week but in truth I don’t have the first clue. Either way, the virus that has killed over 170,000 of my fellow Brits and has left many more with something called Long Covid. I’m optimistic that being triple vaccinated I’ll get through this relatively comfortably, but in all honesty, you never know, do you? I’m not exactly in the first flush of youth, have chronic asthma (chronic just means it never goes away, nothing too sinister) and I suppose I could be slightly fitter than I am today. I am going to rely on the established healing powers of red wine, marmite and a mountain of olives I ‘accidentally’ bought with this weeks shopping.

Being stuck in the house for the next give days or so holds no fears for me because, with the exception of some train-spotting (yes, I know: sad), that was pretty much my plan anyway. And given that I am now coming over all knackered, I doubt that I’d have the energy to do anything anyway.

So, don’t worry about me. Whatever will be and all that. And at least I have something to take my mind off being depressed and anxious. Small wins and all that.

And now I’ve got these buggers in my nose and throat. Jesus. They’re huge. How come I never saw them?