Feb 17th

The lost Saturday
Had not felt at all good when I arrived home on Friday night, and as soon as I awoke on Saturday I knew I wasn’t any better, in fact was a lot worse. I was aching all over, hot and cold and feeling dead queezy. I managed to send a text to A, who I had a lesson booked with, and that took about all of my effort.
I was then seized with something approaching paralysis for the best part of 18 hours, not sure of time passing by, flitting in and out of sleep. I was desperately thirsty for the whole day, and had brought down a pint of water on Friday. I knew it was only about a foot away from me, but simply couldn’t summon the strength to reach for it. Texts kept arriving on my phone, and I couldn’t move to get them. The Wanderers were in action v Rotherham, but to reach the zapper and turn on the tele was beyond me.
Dan came down about 10pm and my body was getting itself together and I sat up for a glass of milk. With this, my strength came heading back to me, and about 11 I switched on the tele. I watched a bit of football, and then a film, whose title I don’t remember, but which reminded me of a similar affair called "Mississippi Burning" Good film, asked several questions, foremost of which was how does that country cotrol the rest of the world when it is so totally fucked up.
That was enough activity, turn it off and into that weird half sleep that a fever takes you to.