Movember 2012

[Sweder]

I hit a nasty pothole on my road to recovery this weekend. On Saturday I took a series of outdoor sessions with the CWD kids, yelling for all I was worth for about two hours, trying to referee the most anarchic football match since the days of Bremner and Keegan.

Yesterday I woke barely able to breathe, throat swollen and sore, snot-lava bubbling hideously. I am the world's worst patient - quite the oxymoron - Mrs S ignoring my feeble wailing to shove me out to 'get on with it, man'. With the playing fields under water I spent Sunday checking room set-ups, microphones, speaker laptop/ projection interfaces and making sure sessions ended on time so that the childcare staff, Mrs S amongst them, got a decent break. The conference has been a triumph. We closed last night, a procession of parents hugging their tearful goodbyes, telling us what a difference this weekend makes to them and their children. That is truly humbling, all I need to bring me back again next year.

I'd planned to work out and run whilst here in Windsor but shall now do neither until much later in the week. My chest is notoriously fragile, though I'm bound to say much stronger since I took up distance running. Used to be that every year I would break down with an ugly infection, laid low for weeks, the result, I'm told, of severe bronchitis when I was two years old. Even now, sat here in the pre-dawn, coughing up putty into a drinking glass, I know this will pass soon enough. Donning my rose-coloured spectacles my body is getting a timely rest and I am at least eating well and not drinking. It does rather bugger up my twelve week fat loss/ fitness plan. C'est la vie.

Horrible news over at MLCMMan's diary, and some good advice re: personal health checks. Mine are long overdue. Time to book in for a service.