The Humble Cuppa

I was considering calling this 'Writers Blocked Nose II' but rather liked 'A Humble Cuppa' so consider this part two.

As I sit here, blocked up from head to toe and producing substances I didn't know my body was capable of producing in colours I've never seen before, I have been struggling. I struggle when I'm ill, tired or hungry. I have been all three recently and I'm getting a little sick of it. Fortunately I managed to find my ever faithful Night Nurse (for those that don't know, it's a cold and flu remedy, not a sexual proclivity. Even if it were, as I'm feeling right now, I dare say I'd be fairly rubbish) so I was unconscious and out for the count until I awoke at seven this morning even more blocked up (which I honestly didn't think would be humanly possible) and feeling disappointed that my previous few posts on my blog have lacked any sparkle due to my aforementioned cold from hell (yes, I'm that whacked when I'm ill that I ruminate over this blog that early in the morning... among other things of course).

When I'm tired, I can rest. When I'm hungry, I can (and often do) eat. When I'm ill, I have to wait. This is the problem I face, I'm not good at waiting. I'm not impatient, but I'm not one to sit down for a long period of time (feeling like a compacted ford fiesta) and let my autonomic immune system take the lead. I'm a control freak and I demand my own way. Unfortunately beings billions of times smaller than me have other ideas and I find myself giving in to group pressure, especially when the group is pumping through my veins and demanding I yield to their every whim. Bitches.

Let me go back to my point. I have been thinking long and hard about what to write about. I am usually bursting with inspiration and ideas in every shade, every which way, however over the last couple of days I've been devoid of anything. I am barren. I am an infertile writer (not literally you understand, well I hope not) planting seeds in arid terrain at the peak of summer, not a rain cloud in sight. Balls and bugger.

As I thought long and hard, frustrating my little brain and sniffing uncomfortably, I picked up my cup of tea and took a little sip. Then it came to me, I have been thinking too hard. Instead of trying to formulate some grand argument I can wax lyrical about, why not just take in my immediate surroundings and the inspiration they nurture. The humble cup of tea. What a thing of beauty. even as I feel now I can appreciate it's stark simplicity and it's reassuring presence. A wonderful reminder that life is still alright, and although inside my own body there's a microscopic war being fought (and lost by the feel of it), outside spring is starting to blossom (at long last) and plans are still afoot, moving along at the same pace they always were.

I guess if I have to wait for this sodding cold to break and to feel like I can go from one room to the other without wondering where I can sit down next, then I'd might as well wait with a cup of tea. There are worse ways to pass the time. Ooh, I'm a little hungry, time for lunch. And a rest. And maybe another tea.