Karma has well and truly bitten me on the ass this week. J has been suffering with a bad cold for the last few days and I have, alas, been relentlessly unsympathetic. While he has been shambling around the flat, red-eyed and moaning about his sinuses, I have dismissed it all as ‘man cold’ and claimed that a woman would be way more stoical about the whole thing.

So I really should have known that of course I would catch his damn cold, and that it actually is a bad one, and now I am shuffling around the flat bemoaning the fact that we have run out of DayQuil (because J used it all up curse him) and I am getting, quite deservedly, no sympathy whatsoever.

Summer colds are the worst, because all you want to do is curl up under a blanket with some hot blackcurrant juice, but it’s too damn warm and muggy for it. Oh, and let’s not forget that my boyfriend (SPREADER OF DISEASE, more like) is now my boss, and that he has decreed, since I am so damn stoical and superior of gender, that no way am I allowed a day off sick in my first week of work.

Ugh. I’m sorry sweetie! Please take pity on me and let me use your stock of hankies (which, let us not forget, I ironed). I will endeavour not to belittle your illnesses in future, if you will endeavour not to use up all the good cold medicine. Deal?