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Listening to the body

THE human body is a wonderful thing, but it does have a mind of its own.

A mind that overrides opposition, one that will rarely accept deviation from the course it has set itself upon.

And thus it was at precisely 2.53 pm today that it made an unheralded announcement: a truce would be called forthwith and all hostilities waged for the past several days would cease.

There would be an immediate end to the seemingly endless sweating/shivering, coughing, spluttering, hacking, headache, chest pains, inertia and  unsteadyness that had assailed my meagre frame since going to bed fit, healthy and happy three nights ago.

What followed was a massive loss of energy, no interest in food or drink and a sapping not only of physical energy but also of mental activity so that even the daily tussle with the cryptic lost its appeal.20191127_155854

Listen to your body, they say.

I did, and the words it spoke were not good. Gloom-laden, in fact. Thou shalt do nothing, think nothing and neither digest nor imbibe anything they said.

It might as well have been speaking in tongues, a language I did not understand. Such a sustained all round assault on my health and wellbeing was almost unknown. A totally new experience.

Maybe a day was tolerable, to be fought with warmth, sleep, a couple of Ibuprofen  and a couple of throat lozenges.

But the body was not to be assuaged. That one-track mind ploughed on, wreaking revenge and ignoring all efforts at acceptance and appeasement.

Okay, maybe I had been a bit too demanding of late but surely nothing all that excessive. What’s a half-marathon or two among friends?

And on the third day (as the saying goes), I gave in. I had no more weapons (a double scotch and camomile consumed before getting under a double duvet was the limit) and had come to accept there would be more of the same to come.

Such contrition appeared to do the trick. It was the apology the body was seeking and which, after due considereation and another half-day of sweats and wheezes, it begrudgingly decided to accept.

The dark cloud of sickness suddenly lifted, the appetite returned, a double espresso tasted like nectar.

Body and I are friends once more and seemingly will remain so provided I listen more diligently to what it has to say.  And obey.






Simple pleasures of a plate of sprats
Bromo bashed – an excerpt from Book 6

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