Don't forget the honey, mummy

It is holiday time with a clear run of some days with no work and how I could enjoy the sunny moments in the weather. Walk down to the allotment and till the earth. Continue to declutter my living space which we know is so liberating. Instead, none of that. I have been gripped by my son's cold and cough with sore throat. Dear Mr Doris has also succumbed too and it is all so yucky.

The thing is, I have been in so much pain from it. On Wednesday I was getting through so much fresh lemon and homey I was sure I'd have this beaten. On Thursday I asked Mr Doris to bring more lemons but I forgot to ask for more honey. I do not know what was in my tiny brain cells to suddenly use one whole lemon in a glass with barely a teaspoon of left over honey. Drinking it wasn't entirely pleasant or comforting though it went down. It was the acid reflux a short while later that had me hit the roof and I felt like the back of my throat, already sore and unpleasant was suddenly stripped and burned and still feels that way a couple of days later. So my thought for the week is to always use enough honey with your fresh lemon.

I fell off the bandwagon way back with my hydrogen peroxide therapy and am sure that if I had kept it up I might not have succumbed in the way I have. I feel so fragile I'm not sure I can do anything to get back onto things like that. The thing is, I know my body likes to pack up on occasion and have down time. Especially after the emotional roller coaster of this year so far. I try to keep reassuring myself that I was planning on taking it easy anyway and don't need this cold to make me do that.

In other news, and other important thoughts for the week, if one is planning to Ferry Cross the Mersey and you have very long hair, then leaving it down and free like some artificially remembered childhood is not a good idea. There was a huge matted mess at the nape of my neck and luckily my french pleat style enabled me to straighten out the outside layers so I still looked smart for work and despite efforts with conditioner in the shower and a bath with oils, nothing was giving. The good Mr Doris spent nearly an hour yesterday patiently unpicking the mass. I am pleased to say I am back to being knot free.