1) It's the Ekka. The Brisbane Exhibition, or Ekka, starts on Friday. The rides are there. The lights are on at the showgrounds. All we need now is for the gates to open
2) The westerly winds arrive. The wicked westerlies arrive as sure as the Showies
3) The sick season hits. Every single year. Now as the Ekka doesn't start until Friday, I have not yet been. I have never worked as a showman but I seem to manage to catch an Ekka virus. Every single year.
The dripping from places that shouldn't rightly drip.
The rattling, the wheezing, the snorting, the sneezing. In a departure from my "ignore it and it will go away" tactic for dealing with such things, I called the 24 hour doctor more than a week ago. I started antibiotics and steroids pretty much straight away. Fat lot of good that did. I was back at the doctor yesterday who observed that whatever antibiotics I was on, we needed to change them. He was also reasonably sure that five days of drugs wouldn't shift it. If everyone has a special talent, I should add earth-shattering coughs to my CV. Or perhaps there is a career as a sound effects person for medical dramas or cough medication advertisements. So I spent the day in bed. Mostly. But by late afternoon the fur friends impressed on me that gentle exercise was important. So we went for a very slow walk to the uni to visit the ducks. Just because I'm not well doesn't mean their health and wellbeing should be compromised.
But here's the thing. I am being a good little patient patient, trying to get better. Some, however, are a little less dedicated in their attitude to health, at least to the health of other creatures. All around the perimeter of the lake their are signs about not feeding the wildlife and a detailed explanation about why it's bad. But as often as not when we go someone has decided that doesn't apply to them. It's crazy selfish. I might just cough on them.
If that fails, I'll just take myself off to the Ekka. If I'm going to have the Ekka flu at least I should be able to enjoy the dagwood dog.