The Past Tense of Fly is Flu!

The young lady (Youshaw market fake-fur-lined white leather (?) coat, black synthetic knee highs with plastic brass chains and a new Nano) beside me on the flight from Beijing to Vancouver was snivelling as we taxied down the runway. At first I thought it was the emotion of leave-taking and as I was feeling a bit of wrench myself I was sympathetic. I was even going to pat her hand in a kindly-uncle fashion, then she began to cough like Mimi in Act 3 of La Boheme. Still sympathetic I felt bad for her - it's hell to travel when you're under the weather. Now I realize that she had the flu - which one of the 3000 strains God only know but it was obviously not included in this year's shot - and she passed it on to me.

Four days later and I am still have that steamroller-flatten feeling you get from flu/jet-lag/age and haven't had the energy to boil water let alone wade through the 1583 photos that we took on this vacation. When I started confusing the Cau Dai Temple in My Tho (glaring sunshine, bright colours) with the Dugong Temple in Beijing (gray snow, muted tones) I knew it was time to take another swig of Buckley's and head back to bed.

Once I have pulled myself up from my bed of suffering and woe I will get a few of the items on Vietnam, Hong Kong and Beijing posted. In the meantime I found this recipe for an old fashioned mustard poultice. I think I'll give it a try.