A mighty creature is the germ,
Though smaller than the pachyderm.
His customary dwelling place
Is deep within the human race.
His childish pride he often pleases
By giving people strange diseases.
Do you, my poppet, feel infirm?
You probably contain a germ.
I'm propelling myself to work today despite waves of flu-like symptoms (which subside with a cup of coffee) and a deep-seated, toxic chest. Bad I know. By the end of the day, I'm ragged. Fit only to curl up under a crotcheted rug with bed socks on and the remote control to hand. Thankfully the latest edition of Inside Out arrived in time to offer some gentle reading.
We are still working on body clocks set an our earlier. I've managed to get to work early before the rest of the miners descend. It's magic being the first one to turn on the lights and the photocopy machine. I settle down and witness the morning unfurl. Even manage to get some work done, or at least sketch out the day's priorities, before the hub-hub of office life gets distracting and the 'urgent' wheedles it's nosey way in to trump the 'important'.