Since returning from my Portuguese vacation on Friday, frustratingly I’ve been laid low with overwhelming fatigue and ‘the runs’. The only plus side of the latter being frequent dashes to the bathroom have meant, despite illness, I am maintaining my daily Fit Bit step target.

With regards the tiredness element of my condition, I feel as weak as a kitten… In fact, that summary doesn’t adequately describe the exhaustion levels I have felt since Saturday… It would be more accurate to say I feel as weak as a kitten who has just run the London Marathon with an anvil strapped to its back.

Reading the previous sentence, one might question how I arrived at such an off the wall simile. After all, I’ll clearly never have met a kitten which has run the London Marathon; either with or without an anvil handicapping its progress… However, I’m taking a punt the wee moggy would be (to coin a phrase) f***ing knackered at the end of its exertions. Subsequently, in my opinion, making it an accurate comparison of my tiredness levels.

My enervation is not aided by the fact my appetite has been shot since my return to Blighty. Consequently, I have eaten about as much food as a sparrow for the last 72–96 hours.

Unless, of course, the said avian has, in the last 3-4 days, dined heartily on goose washed down by Moet & Chandon… In which case, I have eaten much less than that sparrow, and indeed have drunk less alcohol than him… If the chirper’s pronoun was he, of course.

Footnote – Coming to think of it, as it would rank as a form of cannibalism, sparrows probably would not eat goose… Actually, it’s unlikely it would quaff champers either… Strike that from the record!

Attempting to pin down what may be the underlying cause of my malaise, I asked my beau Sarah (who has seen all the Carry On Doctor movies) what she thought maybe laying me low.

After a brief pause, the Ossett lass responded “You’ve either overdone things, or you’ve got ‘Not Very Well at All’ disease, Gaz.”… I knew her six years at medical school would come in handy one day!

On the plus side, within the last 24 hours my toilet trips have reduced markedly and I’ve started eating again. 

Not large amounts of fodder, I hasten to add. However, the Pot Noodle sandwich I had for breakfast was to die for… Almost literally to die for, after nearly choking when forgetting to take the noodles out of the pot before placing them between the bread slices!

Anyhow, after spending most of the past few days in the land of slumber, I now know what it must have been like for Rip Van Winkle… Not to mention a security guard at a previous job who when on nightshift got paid for monitoring the back of his eyelids for 48 hours a week.

Footnote – The land of slumber is not to be confused with the bed retail outlet Slumberland… I haven’t spent my hours snoozing there for most of last three score and ten hours.

Anyhow, although the malady appears to come and go in waves, I am hoping for a slight increase in appetite is a good indication I am on the mend.

Despite Dr Sarah’s well-intentioned efforts at helping diagnose my health nemesis, if my ailments persist for much longer I’ll have to engage a GP… If nothing else, an official prescription signed by a doctor will hopefully ensure I get dispensed with fit for purpose meds to battle my immune system foe… For some reason, the local pharmacist seemed reticent to dispense me meds after I handed him an old takeaway menu upon which Sarah had written “Give him something for the shits!!”

Right, I’m off for a lie down… Incidentally, if you want the Pot Noodle sandwich recipe, feel free to give me a shout!