Igorella

My beloved is arranging for us to fly up to Glasgow to join excellent chums for the New Year.
This sounds delightful. I just wish I could walk to the front door.

I am sick, a creature of voiceless phlegm, vociferous bowels and weak limbs. Let me perfect this picture of feminine fragility by adding that I haven't washed my hair for five days, and have developed a mysterious swelling over my left eye. I appreciate this may be more information than anyone needs. I find it worthy of record, simply for its potential impact on my breakfast show tomorrow.

I'd like to cancel, but I cancelled yesterday's show, and it's a darned expensive month.
Making myself look half way decent at 6 am is never easy. Tomorrow I think I can promise startling failure. They'll be lucky if I can say anything other than 'Yeff Maftah,' into the camera.

This is so stupid, I can't even continue typing.
I will try again later.