I am so unused to all this water falling from the sky. This just doesn't happen in Spain and I can't say that I enjoy it. I may be a Gothic Pisces but I hate water. Example, if I go to the beach and someone asks if I want to go swimming in the sea - yeah, right - why would I want to do that when I can remain perfectly dry enjoying a drink on a terrace overlooking the beach? And if the 'camarero/a' asks if I want water with my whisky I go crazy - perfectly stupid idea.
Anyway, this falling water, known as rain apparently, succeeded in giving me a cold and causing me to feel like 'seven shades of shit in a one shit trumpet'. I don't like feeling like shit - few people do but the male of the species are particularly bad and wimpy about it. 'Oh no' *sniffles* 'I may have a cold and cannot do anything today my dear'. Compared to a female's attitude to pain etc it's a wonder men ever won any wars. But then again, we (males) do seem to start most of them.
Even Joan of Arc didn't start any - she just kicked ass. Which makes me wonder - if she was such a great fighter all the time, she must have been scary as fook when it was her 'time of the month'. Glad I wasn't alive during that period ;-)
So, it's taken over 24 hours to feel half-human again. Which is probably an improvement on where I started in the first place. Unfortunately, when I feel sick my ability to speak any languages fades rapidly - my brain does an emergency braking manoeuvre. I can't ask for help as this usually occurs when no one who speaks my 'mother-tongue' is around for advice and becomes a lunatic cry for help. I have received so many strange things from pharmacies in different countries - from my first shot at explaining in German that I had a headache which came out as 'I am sick in the head' to my latest bodge. No wonder the woman pharmacist wondered what I was talking about when I asked in French to get 'something I could put up my nose that made me feel better'.
At least I didn't get arrested this time. She probably thought I was talking Flemish or something equally impossible for me to achieve with a brain the size of a pickled egg. Nearly all better now as I went to get my favourite remedy for said cold. Whisky (to be mixed with hot water and honey) not drunk straight from the bottle while singing Neil Young songs at a railway station. Hopefully I should save a packet on tissues.
I suppose buying an umbrella would help but, bizarrely enough I have loads of them in Spain. Relics from my previous lifetime in the Sprout. Fat lot of use they are there - except maybe for poking undesirables in the head. Seems a better idea to just stay in bed and leave the warrior queens to deal with the muppets. Then I could just emerge from under the covers, step over the deceased muppets and go to a bar and laugh about it with all the other wimpy males who had the same battle plan ;-)
a luego, *sneezes*