Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Things are getting worse

Now I have caught a cold, and I burnt my finger on a baking tray.

Fortunately I did not burn it very badly. My hands are so cold that it just went "fwoosh", as if my icy finger was cooling the tray.

Since the cold has apparently gotten into my bones, I imagine that my death is imminent. Pretty soon you'll be talking about "the John Allison legacy". I don't have a will, so I guess I'll leave everything to my friend Kelly Vivanco, and she can do what she wants with my chattels. Kelly, look forward to owning a right hand drive Japanese car, a terraced house in the armpit of civilisation, and two dozen "Just William" books. You earned 'em.

8 comments:

fontgoddess said...

I burned the back of my hand in an unfortunate toaster oven accident a few weeks ago. It's all healed an shiny now, but while it was healing it was oozy and itchy, so my condolences to you and your finger. Hope they are better soon.

John A said...

My finger was so cold that it didn't actually burn. I'm sorry to hear about your finger, usually I'm pretty good as burning myself - usually with my old friend "mr steam iron".

I've upgraded the situation here to PURPLE, I'm wearing my bathrobe over my clothes, and a scarf, and singing "seasons in the sun".

Roman said...

Condition Purple! Time for the Grimace cure - lots and lots of vaguely dairy-tasting shakes.

Magnu-tron said...

I am directing at least 6 seconds of sympathy at you.

eye candy said...

Seasons in the Sun is a delightful song, so very happy.

When I get sick I get very senstitive and spend a lot of time crying.

Roman said...

"Seasons in the Sun" is a happy song? I thought it was a song about remembering a friend who had died?

eye candy said...

Sorry, I forgot to italicize my sarcasm.

Patches said...

John, you know I would make place of pilgrimage for your fans (and 'followers' as it were) they would say, "LO! There is the lino of deth, the wall and mortar of Sir Allison's ailments. Let us weep for the slugs have a master no more! Look it is the cursed baking tray of doom to which his hallowed flesh still clings..."