Poem: Holiday

I found a load of (really) bad poems on my external hard drive. This is just the first of many πŸ˜›

‘Holiday’

The cry goes out “IT’S SIX FIFTEEN!” and in an instant all hell breaks loose.
“Who’s got the passports?” Someone shouts, racing across the landing
“I can’t find my other shoe!” Another cries
“I told you to pack LAST NIGHT!” Comes an exasperated reply
“What do you mean I can’t take it?” An angry voice snaps
“Boarding cards! Tickets!” A deflated lilo comes sailing past
Amidst the chaos a lone voice speaks out: “You know it’s only Tuesday, right?”
There’s a pause, calenders are consulted diaries are checked
and slowly everyone troops back to bed.

Oh, the pain, the pain of it all!

I got hit with one of those 24hr bugs which resulted in me being sent home from work on Friday after the matinee and then having a horrible night of aches, pains and constant shivering. On the plus side the incredibly painful sore throat I had went pretty quickly and it does seem to have been only 24hr hours of feeling like I’d run into a brick wall, over and over.

Things that have helped this experience be less painful:
1) Futurama, the ultimate feel good cold cure.
2) Reading ‘Starship Titanic‘ by Terry Jones, who can’t be cheered up by random little gems like this?

“They lay there waiting for the forever-ending explosion that would terminate their brief affair. But, unlike the two overs, it didn’t come.”

3) Late night ‘phone calls to mummy

In honour of this experience I’d like to call ‘hell’, I’ve written a little ode

Ode to the 24-hour ‘Flu Virus

I want a cup of tea
I want a hug,
but most importantly
I want my mum.