Blargh. This being a technical term.
I have, for the best part of the last week, been feeling a bit more than sorry for myself, suffering from a viral throat infection. Quite how it managed to turn my legs into jelly and my skin to break out in a very funny rash (which thankfully didn’t last long) when it’s in my throat is a bit beyond me. Fortunately, a couple of days in bed alternately freezing up and waking up drenched in sweat seem to have got me through the worst of it. The biggest issue I’m not facing is a continued lack of appetite and very tender gums, which make eating even less appealing. On the plus side, I’ve probably drunk more water in the last week than I normally would in a month, with a glass never more than arms reach away.
If nothing else, I’m vowing to keep that habit going even after I’m recovered. Hopefully, that recovery isn’t too far away.
One of the biggest drawbacks to this viral thing is one I expected, because I had the same thing happen last time I had a virus-type-thing. It’s made alcohol taste *really* funny. This is very, very annoying, especially with the tender gums thing, since it takes all enjoyment out of a medicinal dram before bed and makes it very much like taking medicine. When the medicine in question is a 1991 Signatory Vintage 18y/o Mortlach, this is nothing shy of heartbreaking.
So I have eschewed a we tot before bed, much as it would have helped get me through the more sleepless nights, proving once again that there really is nothing fun about being ill at all. When I was younger, being sick was an excuse to get loads of attention from your parents, doting care, endless cartoons, and most importantly, no school.
At the moment, I’m annoyed because I haven’t been able to work, I’ve not had the mental drive or energy to watch TV, and I’m out of fresh reading material, plus I didn’t even have the energy for a bloody wank. So it really has been a big lack of fun. Oh, and then you get to add on the whole feeling-like-death part.
Thankfully, I’m past the worst of it. I’m still a little weak on my feet and still have no appetite, but I managed a day back at work yesterday and I’m pretty confident I’ll survive one tomorrow as well.
Still no urge to try a wee dram yet.
Never one to wallow in self-pity, I’ve decided to use the fact that I can’t drink to my advantage, and buy bottles to fill my wine rack instead.
Almost all the bottles in here come courtesy of my very good friends at The Edinburgh Wine Merchants on Raeburn Place. It is, and I’ve visited a few, one of the best wine merchants in town; the staff are extremely well informed, very friendly, and always ready with a recommendation for me. Given the amount of times I’ve been in, I think Phil and Alan can guess what kind of wine I’m after on any given day, and they’ve yet to let me down. If you look closely you’ll see a yellow screw-cap in there, belonging to a bottle of Cien Y Pico. This is an old-vines Grenache from La Mancha in Spain. Juicy, big tannins, full of flavour and fast becoming one of my favourites; I’ve begun exploring Spanish wines a bit recently, having finally decided to look past the Riojas of the north, and this is one drop that makes me bloody glad I did.
Anyway, if I follow my usual pattern I’ll begin cracking into these as soon as I’m fully recovered, so to ensure that I maintain a good supply, I have decided to continue buying bottles through my illness while I can’t drink, and then to buy as I go as I usually do once I’m better. This way I’ll have built a stockpile (some of which will be bottles for laying down) so that I’ll finally have that little wine cellar started. As plans go, it’s flawless, and because I can’t actually drink them right now, I have no guilt at buying a more expensive bottle precisely *for* laying down, because I’m not in the shop to get something for *now* anyway. See the genius of it? A plan so cunning it could have been devised by a fox.
In other news, I have been faintly manly and put up a shelf.