A word from the sanatorium
There has been an overwhelming outpouring of concern, nay, grief, regarding my health.
I cannot thank you enough but please desist from laying those delightful floral tributes outside the apartment building's entrance and adorning my letter box with those darling crosses and miniature ribbons. While the mistress is indeed unwell she is not quite yet on her way to hell.
So, ahem, why, the clearing of the throat is such an effort, the voice still has not returned and the coughing continues, consequently Doctor Foster confined me to bed all week.
I have really been enjoying this impromptu mid year break. To be told officially to stay in bed, rug up and rest, and awarded a certificate saying so, is my greatest achievement to date.
Next week I trust that I’ll be sent away to the mountains or the sea to get fresh air and convalesce in the style of a Somerset Maugham character.
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7 comments:
A gift-wrapped hungarian white meat staff will come vaulting into your dressing room shortly, madame
Still squawking?
Still squawking is that a flaming groovies lp?
Thankee for asking, Boy. more of a bonnie tyler/rod stewart rasp but not a leggy blonde insight, which is a relief. I went to work but my boss sent me home as i still appeared sick. I will see the dr again today and am kind of dreading it as the certificate will say suffering from hypochondria.
Now where should i convalesce? coogee sur mer with all those sweet and refined backpackers, or chez Baz and Catherine or Lachie and SArah at Brontecarlo, as Johnny I. dubbed Bronte, or chez Dickie Neville or Noni Hazelhurst in the montagna? spoilt for choice.
Your friends sound lovely!
Is it true Baz handles a large cucumber at lunch, just sits there and plays with it in his hands
Stop it you're making me hungry
Is it true your new voice makes you eligible for Miss Carol Channing Australia 2006
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