It's not that I've been neglecting my blog. It's not that I've not been reading. It's just that I'm really ill, with an "upper chest infection". It's not swine flu, which is a good thing... but, it does mean I've been on antibiotics, and in bed, and incapable of doing anything. No TV, no internet, no reading - just being in bed, and feeling sorry for myself. I didn't actually get out of my bed all of Tuesday and Wednesday, but to go to the NHS and have them tell me to take meds. I've been working on a very tight deadline for work, at the moment, and obviously falling ill got in the way of that. So, Tuesday night, I was dreaming that the guys I work with decided to dismember me, toe by toe, finger by finger, and dispose of me as I was being unreliable and irresponsible. So, I'm also taking a small break from thrillers that deal with dismemberment, considering I've been reading the Dexter series, as well as Natsuo Kirino's Out. I don't normally get nightmares, and I've stomached some seriously disturbing books, but, I think being ill makes me a lot more vulnerable, and maybe, at a level, I am actually scared of being cut up and thrown away. It's a totally rational fear...
Anyway, I'm home for a week, and while I try and get well (or the course of antibiotics to run out), I'm keeping these on my bedside table, hoping to finish at least a couple...
Oh, and just because I'm home, I'll be catching up on some Enid Blytons and Roald Dahls as well.
Happy days, despite feeling like a truck's run over me, and all I want to do is crawl into bed and do nothing, but sleep this infection off.