I’ve had a cold this week, which B inevitably picked up. It was part of the reason for our trip on Tuesday. My thinking was ‘I’ve given you an illness at the worst possible time, so the least I can do is drive you to the cold, windy, inhospitable British seaside, it’s just what you need’.
B has remained stoic in the face of everything he’s had to deal with so far. He hasn’t complained about the surgery, or the staples. The other day he hit his head in the eaves storage space. I didn’t hear a peep. But man flu – now there’s a malady.
Me: Your cold seems to be getting better.
B: (after much mournful sniffling and nose blowing) No, it isn’t.