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Feeling pretty lousy again today with this stupid, potentially fatal bug. I thought Edinburgh was going to be fun when I was feeling well and my dog was alive, but it's a bit depressing when your throat hurts and you're missing your family and you can't go home. Thanks for all your kind messages by the way.
Much as I'd like to die, I think the psychological effect of losing a pet and a dad in the same week might be too much for my kids (Catie might even be upset) and so I have to think of them and fight this mild cold with all my might.
Luckily or unluckily it's not so bad that I can't get on with stuff if I've had a couple of Lemsips. I bought a thermometer yesterday so I could keep an eye on my temperature. I asked the man in Superdrug for one of the beep boop thermometers -assuming he'd understand that meant the ones you point at your head and they give you your temperature. Maybe he though beep boop was a euphemistic way of saying anal (I'd hate to be his partner) because he sold me a thermometer that can be used three ways: anal, oral or under the armpit.
I mean that's obviously the three things I want from a lover (if I have to choose one then it's the armpit), but not what I wanted from a thermometer.
The literature, like your boyfriend, really tries to push you toward anal use. It's saying, "Like, yeah, you can put it in your mouth, but it won't be as accurate. Not like up the bum. The armpit's an option, but really to get your body temperature right it's got to be right up the Marber."
I still decided to use the oral and armpit way though. It didn't say how far up the anus the thermometer had to go - I am certain that some of these will have been surgically removed - but mainly I am ill and I don't think I should be doing something that's fun. It's not appropriate.
On top of that, once you've crossed the threshold to you intestines, then however much you wash that thing it's not going to go in your mouth again is it? I wouldn't even feel comfortable with the armpit - though it feels like a potential emergency question.
So my temperature seemed fine, but then again the booklets says that the way I used the thermometer might give a wrong reading. So who knows? Also the battery is about to run out and I can't see an easy way of changing it.
Fuck Superdrug.
My RHLSTP with Finlay Christie filled me with enough adrenaline to make me think I was better. Though as the second show approached I did find myself fading again and took another shot of Lemsip. I've hardly ever done drugs in Edinburgh, so I hope I don't get addicted.
It was a bit more of a reserved atmosphere in the lounge like room at the W Hotel, but Amy Matthews was another terrific guest and I am already at the stage of the Fringe where my mouth and brain are not connected so I can go in some strange directions/forget the names of people I know very well.
I went straight back to the hotel afterwards, had a quick drinki with a friend, but then had an early night with a box of Malteasers. The only thing willing to shae my bed with me these days at the Fringe. And I repaid the Malteasers by eating them all until I felt sick.
It was very much a purchase and consumption made in loneliness and depression. I have not managed to process my grief about Wolfie yet and my heart is at home, whilst the rest of me falls apart up here.
The Malteasers don't work. They just make you worse. And I won't ever see your face again.
So the shows are a delightful release, but everything else is a bit crappy. I probably need a proper cry but the tears aren't coming just yet.
Maybe I should stick that thermometer up my arse. Might need a bigger one for tears though.
