Saturday, November 14, 2009

She'll be right, Trev

As Fred Dagg once sang;

If it weren't for your gumboots, where would ya be?
You'd be in the hospital or infirmary
'coz you would have a dose of the 'flu, or even pleurisy
If ya didn't have yer feet in yer gumboots.

My wife needs some gumboots. They might have staved off the ambulance ride to the hospital last night.

Pleurisy sounds like such an 'old' disease. I don't mean a disease of the elderly, rather a disease of the past. Something Dickensian.

"Don't mind Ol' Joe, Mister. He's got a dose of the pleurisy, he does. It's left him all breathless and short of temper. An' the two don't mix well, if you gets my meaning."

My wife is in good historical company with her disease. Charlemagne, Catherine de Medici and Ghandi all suffered from it. Pleurisy killed William Wordsworth ... so it's not all bad.

She has been prescribed rest. So now the hard part begins ... enforcing rest.

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