Old Man River... That Old Man River...

The distinctions between colds and flu seem to be terribly arbitrary. I'm pretty sure that I've had a cold, though it's been an odd cold that hasn't developed how most of my colds develop. I'm not at all snuffly, though I'm now talking with a Barry White voice. Oh yes, baby! You heard me. I say Barry White... Ooh yeah!

Sorry, though I'm not really that sorry. I love my 'cold voice' because it usually drops a couple of octaves and I spend my days singing 'Old Man River' for no reason other than I can.

Old Man Riveeeeeeer....

But as I was saying... I think I've had a cold yet all the literature about colds say that you don't get aches and fevers. That's probably why I get zero sympathy. I tell people that I have a cold and they go: oh, right, well keep away from me. No note of sympathy or anything.

However, at 1am this morning, I was curled up in bed feeling really achy, freezing cold and generally crappy. By 3am I was really hot. I didn't take my temperature for fear of frightening the crap out of myself but I felt hotter than I've ever felt yet I wasn't sweating. Not sweating was the thing that worried me so I knew the best course of action would be a couple of paracetamol to induce the sweating, even though I knew it meant I wouldn't sleep for a few hours. So, 3.30, I stuck 'Anchorman 2' on (yet again) and settled in for the inevitable.

Half an hour late the sweating began and by 4.15am I was wet through. The pillows were wet, the sheets were wet, even the wallpaper was beginning to curl at the edges. At some point, I did finally fall asleep and the sweating continued profusely, to judge by the soggy mess that awoke some hours later. I'm amazed I didn't wake up a rake; the reverse Captain America process except replace the well honed body of the Captain with my slightly less well-honed body.

Anyway, when I did wake up, I felt better. The aches have gone and my energy is back. Still no obvious cold (a slight cough and feeling a little under the weather) which makes we wonder what the hell I've had. I nipped to the corner shop and bought myself some Lucozade, a throwback from my childhood give that illness in the house was the only time we ever bought Lucozade. I want to get back to my cartooning, though I'm a bit worried about my beloved tablet. A sign of how ill I was last night, I accidentally dropped my tablet and watched it bounce down a full set of stairs. It seems to work (no cracked screen, thank god) but I've not fully tested it. Losing my tablet would be the spectacularly cruel end to a momentously bad month.