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This week I’ve mostly had laryngitis, which is a poncy way of saying I lost my voice for a bit. When you’ve read that the best way to recover is to rest your voice by speaking as little as possible, it’s really tempting to say things to check if your voice sounds normal yet.
I had a routine hospital appointment, which I might have phoned to cancel if only I hadn’t lost my voice. Later, I found myself bellowing “I’ve got laryngitis” at a cold-caller, by which I meant I was happy to waste their time by listening to their sales pitch as long as I didn’t have to talk, but they didn’t understand and kept asking me questions.
I am grateful for the dystopian innovations that make it possible to do things without speaking, the newest of which is tap on tap off on the buses here, which is also good if you’re not sure how to pronounce the name of your destination. (I think the system has undercharged me a couple of times, but to investigate further would be like telling the teacher they’ve forgotten to set homework.)
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Otherwise I feel much better, or maybe I’ve just got used to feeling crap. I’m aiming for five million steps this year.
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It was Sainsbury’s/Nectar Wrapped time again, and I was the #11 buyer of pesto tuna piccante on sourdough ciabatta in East England. It’s a nice sandwich, a bit soggy but it’s replaced the the halloumi and roasted vegetable wrap in my life.