No escaping Covid

I suppose sooner or later Covid was bound to catch up with us, and on our return from Manchester it did. We hadn't done anything unusual in the week leading up to this point, so it's a mystery where and how we picked it up.

First my husband tested positive, so we split the house; him to the living room with Marvel films on tv, me in the dining room attempting an interesting jigsaw with no box or photo.

It was too late though. After a couple of days, I tested positive too. In the days leading up to it I'd had the most dreadful cold imaginable with a pounding head and constantly streaming nose. Bizarrely, from the point of testing positive, I started to improve.

If one had to pick a week to be ill, we'd chosen well. The temperature plummeted, and snow fell again. I pottered out to the garden and rescued some bedraggled looking daffodils to cheer up the house, turned the heating up and retreated indoors.

A couple of quiet days had me feeling much better. 

I pottered in the garden, watching Spring return and sowing seeds for summer vegetables, and finished the jigsaw (the Coliseum, apparently) 
 

After a week I tested negative but, as it took my husband a fortnight to get the all clear, Mother's Day had to be postponed for a week. All in all it wasn't as bad as I expected it would be - for me, nothing more than a bad cold - but I've been left feeling exhausted. 

A month on; Not good but getting better