Clive introduced me to the term the dreaded lurgy. He first heard it when he was growing up in England and listened to The Goon Show on British radio. The lurgy is a fictitious, infectious condition or disease.
Despite its unsavoury connotations, I love the word (it rhymes with ‘Fergie’) and think it’s a perfect one to describe whatever bug hit both of us this past week. We’ve spent most of our time curled up in bed or running back and forth to the T-word (see Clive’s guest post for more detail about that).
On top of jet lag, which would have caused us to wake up well before dawn in any case, having the dreaded lurgy ensured we were wide awake to watch Sky UK (manhunt in Northumbria) and SBS (two World Cup semi-finals) on television, seeing these events live while most of Australia was sleeping.
The lurgy had been going around Sydney; a close friend here had it, as did Clive’s son, daughter-in-law, and two grandsons before we arrived home. The only thing we were thankful for this past week was that we’re past the age of having young children to parent when we ourselves felt awful.
We’re all better now, tackling the coming-home tasks that await returning travellers. Having diligently kept up with e-mails and personal business while we were away, everything is now backed up and a bit out of control, thanks to the lurgy.
The word just makes me smile. It’s onomatopoeic too: ugh, yucky, lurgy. You have to hear Clive say it in person, with an English accent, of course: the dreaded luuurgy.
I apologise for the unanswered e-mails and lack of blogging and comments in recent days. I’ll remedy that soon; it’s good to be back online.
Cheers and here’s to your good health, all!
Filed under: Living with a Brit |