microwave hell

'My goodness,' said my GP as he looked down my throat on Tuesday. 'You've been walking around like that for a month and no one's given you anything. That's dreadful!' I honestly could have hugged her and wept. Having been told twice already by our company doctor to go home and take Aspirin for a sore throat that felt like swallowing glass, that someone was finally going to give me a brown bottle of pills with my name on it was almost more than I could bear.
So, antibiotics are kicking in nicely (and making me feel thoroughly sick) and I'm awaiting results of blood tests and throat swabs. Who wants an ill-off now then? No takers, eh?
All of this meant that last night I actually got a proper night's sleep. Isn't it amazing the difference a few uninterrupted hours of shuteye can make to your mood.
A few observations and conundrums:
Aren't Mika's songs fantastically catchy?
Can a 10 year age gap really ever work? Will he just trade me in for a younger model at the earliest opportunity, in which case should I just say goodbye now while it's still lovely?
What do you pack when in London winter seems to be an outdated concept (12 degrees today) and you're going to Prague, which could give Narnia a run for its money in the weather stakes (-2 degrees today, apparently)? I've asked that on behalf of my itinerant sister.
Has my nan got her cooker working yet? The poor dear is restricted to microwave dinners with nothing but Trisha and Emmerdale for company!