Heroic is My Middle Name (aka Conquering Man Flu)

It's official. I've got MAN FLU. 

I didn't get a wink of sleep last night with pounding head, sore throat, nausea... but fought through today (listening to some great podcasts!) - just like Mummy's little soldier should!

I think it's an early night tonight for little Gaggsy, tucked up in my jim-jams. I may even get a hottle-wottle-bottle.

Yes - and I even took Patch the dog for his morning walk, but don't let anyone think I'm craving plaudits: it is simply my duty as an heroic man battling with MAN FLU.

As I pulled my hat down and my scarf up this morning just the right side of 7am, I felt I could empathise with the men of the arctic convoys heading into Murmansk as the U Boat wolf packs prowled, or with Old Poppa Joe as he climbed the winter skies over Britain in his Spitfire hunting for German raiders, ice forming on the inside of his canopy.

I don't want a helping hand, nor too much sympathy. But perhaps when the next Bravery Awards are handed out, I might just get a look in? I have looked Man Flu in the eye - and worked through it!

William Wallace or what?

P.S. Mrs H had this last week, but that doesn't count as it was just a really bad cold for her (and she had lots of early nights and "afternoons off").