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Liam Beale's diary entry number nine

I'm ill.

I'm VERY ill.

I haven't been training since last Wednesday. (Today is Saturday.) I just
lie in bed with my jumper on and my bed sheets wrapped as tightly as I can an
shiver, despite the concerning fact that it's summer. Chinese summer, which
is VERY hot.

I really hate it.

I sleep for about eighteen hours a day. In the six hours I'm awake I don't
eat, because I have no appetite at all. I didn't have a 'meal' in three
day. Just some chocolate and water to remove the bitter taste of disease
from my mouth. My fever gives me nightmares all the time. Most of which strangely revolve
around fruit and fibre, of spinning cliff faces. Nightmares are never scary
out of context, but I would wake up and spin about and stuff. It sucks. I'm still no better.

Somebody send me some freaking lemsip, first-class. please.

everything I eat or drink tastes bad. BAD.

Sigh. Onwards!!!

 

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