I feel terrible. My head's thick (no change there then); I have a fever; my ribs are sore from coughing and I feel very sorry for myself.
It is impossible to call the Call Centre – I know it seems ironic – but, years of preventing people from calling in sick has made it impossible to contact anyone. I tried to get through to Brenda to let her know I would not be able to make in to work and I was diverted to four different departments before I reached Bernard.
By the time I spoke to him, my croaky voice had worn off. I imagined him at the other end, dressed as an Amish elder, disapproving of my lack of industriousness.
Sod ‘em. I’m going back to bed until they find a cure.