Newspaper article Evening Gazette (Middlesbrough, England)

A Blow-Up Lilo with a Hamster's Face, Yep.Me!

Newspaper article Evening Gazette (Middlesbrough, England)

A Blow-Up Lilo with a Hamster's Face, Yep.Me!

Article excerpt

Byline: Lindsay Bruce

FORGIVE me for the blatant show of self pity that is to follow but three little letters will explain it perfectly: F L U. Oh sweet Andrex, have I got flu. I mean, I thought I had experienced flu before. I definitely had three days off once a couple of years back for self-diagnosed "swine flu" and there have been epic colds, of that I'm sure.

But flu? No, I can't have had this before. I would have remembered THIS.

Sitting at my desk last week, under a mounting pile of Autism Awareness Week deadlines and Post-It notes scrawled with a never-ending to-do list, I became aware that I was burning up.

I share an office with two people who are basically half reptile.

They are never warm and so the office heater is always on.

"Glowing" to disgusting levels, I asked my colleagues to open a window or turn the radiator off.

The window was actually already open and the heating had been off all day. Oh dear.

An hour later I noticed that everyone who came into my office asked me the same question and were met with the same answer: "No I'm not eating a sweet, maybe my glands are swollen?" The Bruces with man named " Turns out, there was no maybe about it. It was certain.

All the glands in my entire body were swollen (big glands, little glands, glands I was aware of, glands I didn't know I had... All swollen. All of them.

Think blow-up lilo with a hamster's face and you're somewhere near to capturing the beauty that is Lindsay ala flu.

By the time I left work on Thursday the glands in my tummy were so enlarged I looked pregnant. Well, pregnant with mumps.

I crawled into bed on Thursday night and I haven't left yet.

I've tried... But I failed. This flu is obviously a retired hit-man wanting to leave one last victory cull.

Which, by the way, I'm fine with. There's currently a river dance troupe clicking their way to a world record in my head and the cast of Les Mis building barricades up my nose. Heaven forbid actual breathing.

Spare a thought for my poor Brucey boys in all of this though. Ha. Who am I kidding? So much for "if mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." Not true. …

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