No News from a sick Siggy

Having a stinking cold with a hacking cough and a raging sore throat doesn't exactly make for a good news reading performance. Sure, my voice has dropped an octave and is gravelly enough to get a job doing movie voice overs ("In a world where machines have taken over...") but I'm tired and achy and a great believer in herbal remedies. For a cold, read "whiskey, hot water, and sugar."

So rather than being bedecked in my new Edo Tone suit with blue shirt and dimpled tie, bottomed out with a pair of black Oxfords from Cattivo e Cattiva, I'm stuck in real life in a real lie bed hugging a real life duvet and sniffling into a box of tissues, occasionally stumbling out to grab a hot lemon or to suck a Fisherman's Friend.

Tomorrow I will go to work doped up with whatever over-the-counter meds I can funnel down my throat, and maybe slip a hip flask into my bag so I can have a wee dram while the office door is closed.

Don't yah just hate having a cold?