They say the British have phlegm. In my case they are right, but it is not the doughty cool of James Bond. In the last forty eight hours my cold has bunged my ears, nose and sinuses.
I am a one woman snot machine; a Lemsip drinker with Benilyn nights; my pockets stuffed with fresh tissues, my waste paper basket overflowing with used ones; I have a cough that rattles windows and my tatsebuds are only functioning intermittently. Welcome to 2013.
Less phlegmatic stones here.