No, no, we had a great time, really

So when I last spoke to you, beloved internets, I was just about to prance off on holiday and spend some time over-eating and admiring the scenery, also H, in a state of light-hearted anticipation. Because! Holidays! Yay!

It didn’t quite go like that.

Firstly, while digging through my cupboards looking for Just The Right Knitting Project To Take On Holiday, I found BASTARD MOTH LARVAE chewing holes in things. I killed them. I killed them all. I am the England Moth Murderer. And then I sprayed everything with cedarwood oil and put all the very expensive yarn back in the freezer (kills moth-eggs) and I said A Really Bad Word. No, worse than that one. The worsest one you can think of.

Secondly, while I was engaged in this invertebrate slaughter, H phoned me from rehearsals to let me know he’d been given thermonuclear soup for lunch and had spilt in on his hand and ow, actually. Oh, dear, I said, distractedly. Poor you. Kisses better. Die moths die. Of course, when I met up with him again that evening to see the Artistic Thing he’d been rehearsing, I was horrified to see he really had burnt his hand and had blisters and red-raw patches on his fingers and it was all rather incessantly sore.

The Artistic Thing went well though. I was very proud (no, I am not telling you. Our respective parents were there and everything and it is google-able).

Thirdly, the evening H and I arrived at our holiday destination (beauteous fishing-village in Cornwall, complete with golden beaches, fish-and-chips, fascinating little cobbled back-streets, the Atlantic all the way to America, and bonus unseasonal and unexpected entire week of warm sunshine and blue skies), H was developing a bad sore throat. He soldiered nobly on for the next four days, visiting the castles and gardens and such, but he was really quite ill with a foul and horrible cold – the sort that’s border-line ‘flu, because everything aches and one night he even had a fever (I had my basal body temperature thermometer with us, and I checked, and he totally had a fever, poor bastard) and then his head filled up with snot and his face hurt and he couldn’t stop coughing. We didn’t do any long walks, and we kept having to stop for sit-downs, and, get this, he didn’t want to eat much. This is H we’re talking about, most valiant trencherman and gourmet. And, unsurprisingly, he wasn’t really in the mood for sex-mad groupies either, not even cute sun-burnt ones with sandy feet and frazzled hair.

Fourthly, H had a long-standing and important social commitment to go to today, which was fine, his filthy cold was improving, I spent a happy afternoon doing laundry and fiddling with various knitting projects, and I wasn’t really expecting him back before pub-closing time. But he came home early, complaining he didn’t feel particularly well. Within an hour he was locked in the bathroom with the spare washing-up-bowl, suffering violently at both ends.

I shall beat my head against the wall, so I shall. What grudge is this, Universe, that you are suddenly exercising against my dearest H? Why burn him, fill his head and chest with unspeakable gunk, and then empty his torso with such unpleasant vigour? What did he ever do to you?

Anyway, I’d like to rhapsodize about the good bits of the holiday, but I am worried about H and I had to empty the washing-up bowl for him earlier (trick learned from reading Dana Kollmann’s memoirs of her days as a CSI – put a dab of Vicks under your nose before entering the Arena Of Gastrointestinal Despair to collect said bowls, especially if the smell of vomit normally makes you heave yersen (that would be my usual modus operandi. Once I held H’s hair for him and we were all within millimetres of my puking on the back of his head in syncope)). I am not in the mood for rhapsodies of any sort. And if I get either H’s cold or his stomach bug, I will be so bloody cross.

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30 responses to “No, no, we had a great time, really

  • MelissiaKregis

    Poor poor man! I hope he feels better soon, and that you are spared. It does sound like a lovely holiday, except for the plaguey bits.

    • May

      Thank you. I SO hope I’m spared too…

      I think we should’ve been wandering the beaches hand-in-hand with a bell, like lepers. Would’ve added a lovely Gothic touch to the sunshine and surfers.

  • Erin

    On the (only vaguely, really) slightly reassuring side, if he has Norovirus (which it sounds as though he might)– it’s terrible, but shortlived. I was deathly ill for 24 hours and then pale but functional for another 24. I hope that you avoid it; all of it and that the nasty illness leaves your flat soon!

  • a

    Maybe it’s just your turn to bring tea, and pat consolingly?

    Also, the Vicks doesn’t work. As I found to my displeasure this week (not that I tried it, but you’ll see what I mean), the smell stays with you. I only worked with the unfortunate smelling items for a few minutes and inside of a fume hood (mostly) while wearing my personal protective equipment, so I thought all would be well. And the next morning, I could smell the unfortunate smell in my hair. So, as to the Vicks…it only works if you shower after your exposure.

    Hurray for the Artistic thing going well. Hope H is feeling better soon, and that you don’t get it.

    • May

      Definitely my turn to pat consolingly and bring tea. I owe the beloved H at least another dozen dealings-with-sick-bowl alone.

      The Vicks trick worked well enough for me to be able to clean up without horking, but yes, I did spend the rest of the night worriedly sniffing my hands and hair… My poor hands. I’ve washed them about ten times and I think the skin is going to peel off. My skin HATES soap. Silly skin.

  • wombattwo

    The poor boy. Being ill on holiday is just MISERABLE! And his poor hand – ouch!

    Hoping he feels much better very soon, and that you don’t contract it, either.

    • May

      It’s the timing of it all that is so AMAZINGLY shite. Eheu.

      H has stopped throwing up, touch wood, but is pale and shaky and has stomach ache still. Poor lamb.

  • Womb For Improvement

    It makes me so angry when I (or the husband) get ill on holiday time. But it seems almost inevitable. Dammit.

  • manapan

    Poor H! I hope you don’t get it, too. I never thought Vicks did much for avoiding smells, but spearmint gum got me through anatomy lab. Might be worth a try if he’s sick much longer.

  • Kylie

    Yes, holidays while deathly ill are not fun, hopefully, H has recovered quickly.

    I’ve never tried the vicks method, but sweet almond oil ( or olive oil at a pinch) with a strong essential oil ( peppermint, clove etc) rubbed on the hands can ensure that you smell like a herbal shop for the rest of the day, might help

  • Lilian

    Poor H. Hope he’s better soon.

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Ach, Aiiie, Argh! Poorest of poorest Hs! That is an absurdly battering run of bad health/luck/karma. I send my warmest hugs to the bathroom, which I do hope by now is vacated. No fair!

    • May

      ‘Ach, Aiiie, Argh!’ is pretty much exactly what I said when H suddenly grabbed the washing-up bowl and sprinted for the bathroom. I also said FUUUUUCK, because I’m not classy.

      He’s feeling much better today.

  • Twangy

    Gasp! You said “Blast”!

    Oh poor H. Sending recovery vibes. Also, quick! Think germ-repellent thoughts.

  • Emma

    Poor Your Husband, that’s rotten. I hope he is better very soon, and that you don’t get any of it.
    Also: BASTARD MOTHS!!! I hate those little fuckers. I now keep my yarn in cotton pillowcases as apparently the moths won’t chew it (and they will chew plastic…who knew?). What did you kill them with? I have got cedarwood wood lumps but frankly they are rubbish.

    • May

      I confess – this is grim – I killed the moth larvae by wrapping a tissue around my fingers, and then picking them off the yarn and, err, squishing them. And then I flushed the tissue and washed my hands about four times and gagged a bit and had a little cry.

  • mackiewalker

    Poor H. I sympathise as one who has been picking up vile bugs as well for the last few months. There are some doozies doing the rounds. But so pleased the weather was so good for you. If you can’t walk miles cos one is just not up for it at least you can bask on a bench in the sun. Ill and rain would have been just too much. I’m a big believer in dilute bicarb for removal of all vomit smells. It works wonders. Truly.

  • mackiewalker

    Bugger. WordPress is eating my comments when it makes me log in. Anyway the essay is munched. The précis is: many sympathies for H; the bugs doing the rounds are vile ( I’ve been testing them myself); at least theweather was fantastic; and dilute bicarb works miracles on vomit smells.

  • mackiewalker

    And bollocks again it’s making me blog not under my blog personality. Hmm….

    • May

      WordPress is being SUCH a twunt at the moment, with the letting-people-sign-in thing. And then I have to go and fish the lost comments out of the pending file and approve them, thinking all the while ‘but this is a REGULAR. FFS, WordPress’. I have fiddled with all the settings on comments again to enable everything. See if that helps.

      Anyhoodle, yes, lots of basking in the sun and knitting while H dozed and coughed. It was like take a consumptive for a stagger round the grounds of the sanatorium. Eheu. But, again, sitting in the sun was blissful.

  • Betty M

    And death to moths. Bastards.

  • S.I.F.

    Poor guy! That sounds awful! For both he, and also the moths! 😉

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