I really shouldn't be at the Fish Factory. I don't feel well, my head is splitting, I sneeze every 10 minutes, cough and am sure I'm running a temperature. But I sit there at the Fish Counter passing on my germs to my colleagues. I've noted a couple of the very big fish are sneezing as well. The lurgies is going around, by the middle of next week they will all have it and I'll be feeling better. I hope so. There's nothing like spreading your own germs around. As long as they don't mutate into some other worse germ and come back to bite your ass all should be fine.
At the Fish Factory they have a sickness procedure, it's a bone of contention with the Ritz people. The thing is, if you're ill, it's not your own fault. You should not be made to feel you have to come into gut the fishes. So when you do come into work, you hardly work at all, take a short day if possible, and make everyone else ill. Tell me there isn't something wrong with it? Because there is something very wrong with it.
I left the Fishes early and went to the pub. I don't know what it is but after a couple of pints of Guinness I felt a lot better. Though I'm sure it's not a recommendation the Quack would give. For a couple of hours I was almost normal. Well, as normal as I can be.
Sparkling Eyes is on my mind each day. But I'm waiting for her to contact me, if she don't then I'm obviously not important enough. I'm ill I need comforting, but Sparkling Eyes would go on about how women are a lot stronger than men and have to keep going through hurricanes just to make sure the chocolate biscuit tin is full. She made the choice not to let me talk to her, it's her decision now. I'm too ill, and am almost contemplating an early night. We'll see. Someone hand me over the tissues.
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