There’s so much pressure
In my sinuses that hair,
Teeth, cheeks, and eyes ache.
Name: Bin 99 Cabernet Franc
Type: red wine
Recipe: Roast chicken. Salt and bake the bird. I don’t know what temperature, do I? I need to lay back down.
Venue: house/Ebola ward
Review/notes: The only good thing about this case of the flu (or whatever this shit is…regardless, my first truly debilitating illness since the 1990’s) is, erm, NOTHING. This shit sucks.I’ve been to work with it all week (I think everyone that is getting infected already has it or has recovered) in the vain hopes that occupying my time will make me feel better but instead I think it has just prolonged the agony.
We planned on soup for today and Jackie, also sick, bravely trudged to the grocer for a bird but couldn’t face chopping veg or prepping the meat. I picked up the wine and a Halloween bowl full of cold medicine varieties on the walk from the bus, and upon arrival rinsed the carcass (the chicken’s although I could probably have used a shower, too) and stuck it in the oven. When we smelled it, we stumbled back in, hacked off some chunks, threw them on some spinach to wilt it slightly and crumbled some mouldy Stilton over the top then ate in silence, like condemned souls awaiting judgement.
[DT =Daily Tipple, explained in DT #000 here]