A few years ago, I saw an episode of Merlin on telly. It was a really stupid episode with some strange creature that made Shirley Valentine do bad things. So I decided it wasn’t my kind of show.
Then a short while ago, the really tall bloke who sleeps in my bed, picked up the first couple of seasons and started watching them while I was writing. And I might have looked over the edge of my computer a couple of times, because suddenly I was hooked.
Then the whole street got bombed. With the flu bomb! Wham! And I didn’t escape. The very day we had invited Junior’s class over for a birthday party, I woke up both feeling and looking like crap. That’s what the universe calls timing.
So I called in sick on Monday. And Tuesday. And Wednesday. And Thursday! Fever, coughing, headache, back pains so severe, I almost phoned up the hospital to ask if epidurals were strictly reserved for women in labour.
And I ended up watching a gazillion episodes of Merlin, while feeling really sorry for myself. And when I feel really sorry for myself, I get a bit sentimental. So there I was, on my sofa, with my duvet and my pillow, wailing over stuff I’d normally find cheesy. Stuff like: “We’ll fight a thousand enemies with our bare hands for you, Arthur.”
I still have a couple of seasons left to watch. Went to work yesterday, and haven’t seen an episode since Thursday, and I really miss watching the show – it’s like an…oh gosh…an addiction! Having the flu has left me addicted to Merlin!! (And it made me lose 3 kilos – yay!)
So, Saturday morning. Other members of the family are down with the dreaded flu, and the little one finally stopped puking all over the place. Think I might just take a break from the laundry and watch a little episode…