itis

Woke up yesterday and bu golly did I feel like shit. Spent most of the day fighting aches and pains and a bastard of a sore throat. I still went to work though - want the money too bad!
So after a very disturbed nights kip, I awoke to a really bad throat indeed. And a slight nausea that felt vaguely familiar ... somewhere in the deep recesses of my conscious cranium.
And then I remembered a conversation from last week with Mia at work. And I knew where this feeling came from.
Id last felt this way in the summer of 1980. The week of my 9th birthday! And at that time, it was a very very familiar feeling indeed. Something that I had been blighted with from a very young age, every six weeks or so .. knocking me out flat for a few days at a time. Unless I had the big fizzy orangey tablets - in which case I just felt a little sick around meal times.
Yep. I have tonsillitis. Which I thought was impossible given they removed my tonsils on 16 August 1980. But a small amount of digging has lead to two possibilities:
1. If its a bad case, you can still get the infection in your throat
2. The bloody things can grow back! What the fuck? Apparently, they don't even take them out anymore except in extreme cases. And if they do remove them, its not a week in hospital and a week of bed rest with just soft food like ice cream and jelly to eat .. hell no ... its a half day job and you are fed dry toast to scrape against the wound to make it heal!
Boy am I glad I had it done then and not now. I was the star of the ENT ward back in the day. Because my Dad brought a tv and video in one afternoon. And he brought Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back in. Yep, Empire was still at the cinema, and my Dad had it on video. The brought every child from the hospital into our ward and we all sat watching. I remember being very blase about the whole thing ... I was far more excited that Mum and Alan had brought me in a Han Solo in Hoth gear figure. Think Dad was pissed off at that.
But come to think of it ..... that was quite a pattern. Dad always had the big presents, the expensive stuff, the massive American car to pick me up from at school (I knew when he had arrived to get me, as the entire school would be crowded around the car, wondering which kid was going to be getting in this huge great trans am. The looks of disbelief when it was me, the small and wimpy child getting in the worlds coolest car outside William Austin Junior/Denbigh High ever) ... and I was never impressed. Slightly embarrassed if anything. I can remember one birthday (think it was 8th) when Dad had £100 cash to spend on me and took me to a toy shop. Now bear in mind, it was still the 70s and nothing in the shop - not even the most expensive bike - cost that much. I could have had anything. All i wanted was a wind up V.I.N.CENT Black Hole toy. Some young girl Dad was screwing was with us. Id never met her before and never saw her again. I knew that my big expensive gift was nothing to do with me - it was just about looking good in front of her. So I beat him at his own game. I cried. I got the attention. I am fairly sure he probably still got a fuck out of it later, but right there and then I made the moment ALL ABOUT ME. Not because I wanted the attention, but because I didn't want to be used and that was when my stubborn streak kicked in. Like father like son. This was all going somewhere, but it got away from me ... oh well.... I'll post again if it comes back to me