When I was a lad, running a temperature was a sure-fire method of getting a couple of days off school.

The Ma would toddle into the bedroom, stick a thermometer into my gob and wander off again, leaving me to my own devices.  My devices were simple – either a drop of friction on the bed-sheets or the bulb in the bedside lap.  Either method is guaranteed to work, though The Ma might get suspicious if I were running a temperature of 150 degrees.

Docs are the same.  They also love the temperature, but also have a few extras.  They check temperature, blood pressure, pulse and whether you have a cold wet nose or not [our Doc trained originally as a vet].  This always struck me as being akin to kicking a car’s tyres and checking the radiator levels to see if a car runs or not.  Very strange.

I have my own method, and it is incredibly accurate.  Basically it is a checklist of what makes me nauseous.

The concept is very simple.  I have a list of foods and beverages, and I just imagine myself sitting down to a large portion of each item. 

First off is tripe.  I think of myself tucking into a large plateful of tripe and then check to see if I feel nauseous.  I fucking hate tripe, so nausea at this level means that I am in the whole of my health.  If I didn’t feel nauseous then there is something wrong.

Then I step up the ladder and think of boiled bacon and cabbage.  Nausea at this level probably means a minor head cold or a mild flu.  Nothing whatsoever to worry about.

I continue on up the list covering such items as poached salmon [that means I need a couple of aspirin] through minute steak [this is getting serious at this point] up to Confit de Canard and Vindaloo.

Nausea at the thought of Confit de Canard is serious stuff.  At this stage I would need a heavy prescription of something or other, and as for Vindaloo – that is the point where I lash down to the nearest fever hospital and book myself in.

There is one further level.  Guinness.  Feeling nausea at the thought of a couple of pints is exceptionally serious.  It has never happened.

I reckon it would mean I’m dead.

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Just the thought of it — 12 Comments

  1. if i’m off food at all rush me to the doctor and if i’m off beer or wine refusing when offered, call 911 immediately i need hospital emergency

  2. I guess you are still sick you mard/nesh shite. Bit of a cold and you are still whinging & whining. I can help. A large Tyrconnell, Black bush will do. Two aspirins, lemon juice, drop of hot water. Early bed. Sweat it out overnight. Doc tt.

  3. Cat – A simpler but just as effective method?

    Ian – A pint of plain or a neck of the hard stuff.  Can’t beat either.

    TT – Actually I’m not, but I suppose you have to have your snarky comment?  What’s mard/nesh?

    And stop talking to a web site.  You’re not taking your pills again, are you?

  4. When health is bad and your heart feels strange,
    And your face is pale and wan,
    When doctors say you need a change,
    A pint of plain is your only man.

  5. Ian – As de Brudder says?

    Ramrod – I dunno what the answer is.  You are on the mailing list [along with 135 others ?! ] and are marked as active, so unless all 136 are getting late mails, I just do not know.

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