I've had to cancel my caravan trip to the East Midlands. I felt dog tired when I came home from North Devon on Tuesday, and (perhaps unwisely, but the effort seemed worth making) I went straight down to Brighton to attend a Clare Project Posh Nosh at a Thai restaurant. I felt urgently in need of sleep by the time I got home, but well enough to watch a little of the programme on Russian art on BBC4, and then fire up the PC for my previous post.
Next day (yesterday) I woke up feeling awful. I was hot-faced and felt as if my blood pressure was way up. I was running a temperature (38.8 degrees C). Several urgent visits to the toilet. And in the afternoon the hotness was replaced by a shivering fit that lasted three hours. I eventually got to sleep and awoke during the evening feeling weak and wobbly. I could face only toast and chicken soup. The day should have been spent loading up the caravan. I had a half-good couple of hours during the early afternoon when I refuelled Fiona and turned the caravan around on my drive, ready for hitching. But that was all I could manage. I never returned to the preparations.
This morning I'm a little better - my temperature's down - but I'm still weak, and I still need to be near the loo all the time. So I've cancelled my site booking. Fortunately they let me off paying anything.
So what's all this about? It seems like a dose of upset tummy caused by something I ate on Tuesday night. The restaurant is not conclusively to blame: I ate some other things as soon as I got home, as a snack, but then they'd been in my fridge and were fresh enough. It will however put me off having a similar meal out for a while.
But I think it was also something else. I've been packing in a lot of gadding about since July - lots of trips - and I think that it's caught up with me. It's been an understandable reaction to the enforced post-op inactivity in March, April and May. But I am not a spring chicken, and I get used up and drained sooner than younger folk. I need to pace myself better.
I am going to my usual place near Salisbury next week. That's still on. I'll be recovered by then, and it's a nice familiar journey with plenty of places to stop and rest on the way, and an easy-peasy set-up when I arrive. I think though that I'll be spending more time than usual simply walking gently along the local downland, and less whizzing off to towns and beaches forty miles away. But there is one unmissable event: opera at The Grange. It's Tosca. I'm determined to be well for that.