I Am Well ... Apparently

My grumpy old man was on the phone yesterday to his eldest daughter, she'd rung up to wish us 'a happy new year'. I admit to only half listening from the other room to the one-sided conversation as his phone calls tend to bore me being mostly of the 'what's the weather like there?' [half a mile away in some cases] variety.

However, my ears pricked up as I walked in and he was asking if everyone at the other end had escaped the dreaded flu that was doing the rounds ... 'Good, good', he continued ... 'yes we're both fine too.'

Oh, I obviously don't look as bad as I thought, I took a few paces back to the mirror to check on the vision of loveliness before me ... yes, just as I suspected, ultra-baggy eyes, a red nose Rudolph would be proud of. I checked my pockets - enough tissues [ok, loo-roll] to wallpaper the entire downstairs. I blew my nose ... lovely, then tested my cough - oooh, owww - my ribs ache from coughing [ok, I've been coughing for the last four weeks but it is much worse now].

'Ahem, I'm not well'. He carried on making small talk, probably about football. 'Oi, I said I'm not well.' This statement eventually filtered through to the GOM ...'Oh, you never said'.

I mean, EXCUSE ME, am I supposed to announce all my ailments? I know it's not really my style, I can't be doing with sick people, they should go away and keep quiet, only making a public appearance to announce that they're fine now thanks, and making no reference to whatever ailed them.

This attitude of mine [yes, I know I'm not nice ... but I am honest] is because I have no patience and minimal sympathy. My maternal grandmother used to tell me I'd got all the qualities to make a great nurse, she should know, she was horrible ... and a nurse. My paternal step-grandmother told me I'd make a terrible nurse, she should know, she was nice ... and a nurse. Yes, I was confused, but not confused enough to get a job where I had to have either patience or sympathy.

Equally, I don't expect too much sympathy in return, and so I forego the 'oooh I'm proper poorly, I am, please mop my fevered brow.' ... but come on, he didn't even notice?!!

'So, what did you think when I told you first thing yesterday morning that I was full of snot?'
His reply was ... well never mind what it was, but the implication was that I was short of something and it wasn't vitamin C. This resulted in me laughing my way out of bed and into the shower.

'And all the sneezing?'
'But you're always sneezing!'
'OK, I'll let you off with that one, what about my hardly there whispery voice?'
'Er, well, I thought you were a bit quiet.' ...
'I'VE HARDLY SLEPT FOR THE LAST TWO NIGHTS, YOU MORON!!!!'
'I didn't notice.'
'No you wouldn't, you were asleep! [cough, cough]'

You'd think I'd be used to him by now wouldn't you? I know for a fact that my GOM never looks at me [unless my cleavage is displayed]. I've put this to the test several times by standing behind him, quite late in the day so as to give him a fair chance and asking him what I'm wearing - stock answer: 'something blue' - as in denim ...