Coughing

That’s it, really; all I’ve done this week is cough, or at least that’s what it feels like. But let’s ignore that. On Monday I finally got my gas fire reconnected. Nothing was ever wrong with it, but about two years ago it was disconnected because the flue failed a smoke test. It’s been tested three times since, and nothing has been wrong. So much effort wasted because someone didn’t do his job properly. I did a lot of prison prep, and had a session with my GP surgery group; they really work so hard! Afterwards I met a man who was a potential to be in my one act play, Will you marry me?  He was great! So now I have a cast. Emails, typing up, slam practice, and a long phone call to my mum followed, and quite a lot of coughing.

I had to go into the prison on Tuesday because we had a visiting speaker, and it was my job to ensure that the DVD player and projector were working and that all was ok for his visit. It all went well, which was a bit of a relief. Visits such as this to prisons take a ridiculous amount of effort to organise. I don’t think I’ll do another one for a few months. I coughed quite a lot all day.

On Wednesday I answered emails and mail and made phone calls and practised for the slam on Friday, and worked on two books I’m putting together – one for a member of staff at the prison, and one for the young people’s group in Hereford.

I coughed a lot during the night and then slept till late. A bit of tidying wore me out, and I answered loads of emails and worked on the next book, one of pieces written by my prison group, and wrote some Christmas cards.

That night was a bit of a cough-fest, but on Friday I had to go out and do some shopping anyway – I needed cough medicine and sweets. Accounts and lots of prison prep, and slam practice – and then in the evening, although I felt absolutely terrible, it was off to Cirencester for a slam. I shouldn’t have gone; I really wasn’t well – but this was a Christmas slam, and in the first round we had to do a poem with a Christmas theme, and I’d written a new one specially, and I was not going to waste it! As it happened the new poem went down really well – in fact it had the highest score of any poem in the whole evening. I kept going through the semi-final and into the final, but lost by 3 points. By the time I got home I was in a dreadful state, coughing so hard I was throwing up, and wondering why I had been so stupid as to go out when I felt so terrible.

So, over the weekend, I haven’t done anything, apart from a couple of hours work on the prison book. I went to The Bloke’s and was looked after well. Today I am definitely coughing a bit less, and I’m hoping that perhaps it’s beginning to go. Oh, I do hope so. I really don’t want to write a blog as boring as this again. Cough.

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