Caving.

Ill. Poorly. Below par. Indisposed. Sickly. Under the weather.

Without beating around the proverbial bush, I am unwell.

What started off as a common cold has snowballed into my pins giving way, delirium being heightened, a strange Michelin man look about me and the loss of my voice. Cue violins.

Last night was my works Christmas bash. 

Held at Grill on the Alley, Manchester, it was everything a firm's party should be; flowing wine, personable (accommodating) waiting on staff, drinking games (21's), crummy cracker offerings and a night permeated with, for want of a better word, 'banter'. 

Food = top notch, which is no mean feat being that there was 30 of us. Excellent work team (name check Lizzy, an absolute sugar). A special mention to my friend and part-time living doll Mo Wang for facilitating.

Amusing that intoxication allows logic to be replaced with idiocy. I felt on top of the world (albeit with a very husky/sexline tone) until I skipped into a vehicle homeward bound, became violently ill, was taken to A&E who kindly informed me I have a flu strand. 

Strand;

verb (used with object)

1.

to drive or leave (a ship, fish, etc.) aground or ashore: The receding tide stranded the whale.

2.

(usually used in the passive) to bring into or leave in a helpless position: He was stranded in the middle of nowhere.

verb (used without object)

3.

to be driven or left ashore; run aground.

4.

to be halted or struck by a difficult situation: He stranded in the middle of his speech.

noun

5.

the land bordering the sea, a lake, or a river; shore; beach.

 

I didn't care for such melodramatic insinuations.

 

As I sit here, rendered silent, I can't help but weep as an emoticon summarises my feelings perfectly:

:(