Scottish Blogs.com

I've spent most of the past few days in bed with snots and aches and pains... no they are not three of the seven dwarfs, nor the alternative names for the Rice Krispies... I've still been rotten with the cold/bubonic plague. I thought colds would be much milder since I stopped smoking but they seem to get worse with age. And where the fuck does all that sputum come from? You've no sooner emptied your lungs of a bucket load then you immediately start wheezing and rasping again. How does it synthesize faster than you can cough it out... If only my biceps and beer belly could metabolize as fast as that. I think I've turned the corner now and am finally on the mend but it's making me think about having another three years of virtual isolation and avoiding all germs.I see in the last comments...

In the last post I mentioned that I have never felt very patriotic. The truth is, I have never really felt part of anything. This is not a complaint but simply a matter of fact statement, similar to “I have never been to Antarctica”.My parents had children soon after they married. Years later, my mother went to the doctor to inform him she had reached the menopause. He informed her she was pregnant. Some months later I was dragged kicking and screaming into a world where my siblings were almost grown up. They were “the boys” and I was “the wean” (for the purpose of this tale, I’ll conveniently forget my sister who bridged the gap between us). By this stage in his life, my poor dad was forever at the doctors. I later discovered The Doctors was a pub just outside his work....