Fred and I had a great gig at the weekend at Skene hall. A farewell party for an Aberdeen Lass off to Toronto to seek her fortune across the pond. It left us on a high for the rest of the weekend but as the rule says, what goes up, must come down and I am suffering the man flu this week. Michty me. I'm aff ma legs wi it!
I've a sair back, a sair heid and my limbs are aching. The paperwork is piling up, the accordion is screaming for a tune but the body says nae chunce!
I think myself lucky I'm nae somebody that gets nae weel too much. It must be that time of year again. Not to worry, I've got the log burner on, a pot o' broth on the go and a hale box o Lemsips.
Let the cleansing begin!