I'm off sick today, as I have a cold. *pauses for sympathy. Why, thank you. Yes, yes - I'm struggling on, bravely, even though I sound like Darth Vader and drip like BP's oil hole of death. I logged on remotely, to show willing, and achieved a small amount of work quite badly. And I got thinking about being ill, and how it's an essential part of working life. I don't know about you, oh fictional reader, but if I go for a long time without having a sick day, I start to rather miss them. There's something very luxurious about being able to take a complete break from the usual routine, and instead limping about town via the chemist, looking mournful on the outside but secretly eyeing everyone you meet suspiciously and wondering 'why aren't you at work? You lazy, non-taxpaying skiver...' (I become markedly more Conservative when I'm not feeling well - maybe everyone does as there's nothing like being ill to make you resentful of the modern world, self-obsessed and wincy at rude children who Don't Say Sorry). It's the freedom to completely spoil yourself I like. I have a rather spectacularly croaky voice too, which is always lovely as is an instant sympathy gatherer.

After attempting to work this morning, I watched three episodes of Heston's Feasts. In spite of all channel four programmes apparently being made for morons with ADD (must they repeat their single point 17 times within each segment of the episode? Surely this is insulting to the average viewer? Even if I've been forced to watch 8 mins of ads in between, I will still be able to remember the goal of the episode - my short term memory is better than that of the average goldfish) I am continuing to watch it because even though he's not very good on tv and does look like a foetus, he is an amazing chef. Really wish he'd met Roald Dahl and could have cooked him a feast as currently most of the stupid guests don't seem worthy of the fabulous food (Dawn Porter? Seriously? I loathe her. Her shiny hair and not-quite-funny-enough Stylist articles and pretend kookiness...there are many worse people in the world yet somehow there's something about her in particular that makes me want to vomit. On her head be it. (literally). Hmm. It appears I am also meaner when I'm ill.)

Anyway, in other news, I then went for a walk to find reinforcements to fight the Evil Cold, and lovely chemist lady made me buy a yummy syrupy lemon and honey thing which has made many things better and also makes me feel about six, in a good, egg-and-soldiers-on-a-tray sort of way. Unfortunately, I then continued my wander in an attempt to find something I wanted to eat (I'm picky anyway, and when not feeling wonderful even more so - for example the only thing I want right now is beef consumme. Perfect, clear, brown, made from proper bones, beef consumme. Sadly, my wander took me past the Vegetable Shop. A strange remnant from the days where Finsbury park was not entirely overrun by kebab shops and 'saunas', Michael's Fruiterer's is one of my very happy places. It's lovely in there. The problem is, I can't visit it without buying something, and today, not hungry but knowing I should eat something, I had almost no judgement at all. As a result I have come home with some gorgeous English yellow tomatoes (they are the sweetest things in the world, though seem like they are just going out of season), a lemon (vague idea for lemon and honey, I think), a bunch of carrots (they do proper carrots that are a bit malformed and completely yummy) and a large marrow. It's apparently just come into season, and was only 60p. I think I'm going to stuff it with sausage meat, garlic and onion and then bake it - should be interesting, at least. I don't actually want to eat it, but assume Fish probably will.

Right - time to go and watch some more crap tv, as my head is feeling increasingly full of gloop. *sigh.