Pastel skies, salty air and a healing feeling

Healing feeling anyone?

poor me

Okay, it’s not so bad … now. At least my leg didn’t fall off.

Anyone who lent a sympathetic ear to my man-flu piece knows what happened. I’ve been suffering (nobly, in spite of wildly distorted man-flu assertions). I’ve endured with barely a tear for over ten days and there has been sympathy. Could there have been more? Maybe my weekend blog readers ooze sympathy from every pore.

Who said the Wuss-word again? It’s all about tender loving concern.

TLC or no TLC that is the question

What’s the point of man-flu if not to garner sympathy? It stand to reason, one must set out one’s stall for positive psychological stroking. There’s hardly any going about these days.

I have to report that in my case I garnered attention but not too much sympathy … but enough reassuring commiseration fell my way and I feel Lo—at least liked a bit.

Now my stoic suffering looks like passing unlike, I’m glad to say, me.

Misery going … won’t be missed

Even bad things come to an end. And a destination is in sight. Okay, there are a few hurdles ahead. When I think of the pain and suffering others put up with I can’t help thinking:

There but for the grace of God go I … man-flu notwithstanding

I’m lucky, recovery beckons like the pastel skies tonight.

Take a shot

pastel-duskI stood out back scarcely two and a half hours ago. The sky soothed in a way only such gentle tints and colours can. There I stood outside on the chilling grass, risking all for a shot of magnificent twilight. Can there ever be a such perfect counter for man-flu-non-sympathy? Unlikely.

Take a shot? I wish I could however I’m forbidden until Sunday evening sometime. Can you credit it, after all my suffering and the assertions of man-flu. I can’t even partake of uisge beatha (the water of life).

Stoic to the end

What will I do when I’m better?

Bye. Sympathetic remarks, statements or blown kisses most welcome.

© Mac Logan


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