I’ve been off work today for only the second time in about five years. I couldn’t sleep at all last night for some reason – I felt like I had constant indigestion or something – and I had that feeling at 6am that I was about to throw up. You know, when your mouth just fills with saliva.
Anyway, I chucked and I chucked rather noisily, before deciding that I really wasn’t well enough to go to work. I felt terrible, sick to the stomach and my head felt like it was full of cotton-wool. I eventually got my arse out of bed at about 1pm, had a long bath, got some Andrews Salts to calm my stomach and bought the Evening Post so that I could see what properties were offering shared accomodation.
I saw one property this afternoon actually, in Sherwood. It was quite nice, a self-contained studio bedsit type thing with Ikea furniture in it. They were still decorating it so it’ll be a couple of weeks before I could move in there, but it was very promising.
Well, I still haven’t eaten anything today, and I’m finally getting the rumbles. Time to get a sandwich I think, something with cheese in it maybe.