LIZ JONES'S DIARY: In which I end up in hospital By Liz Jones For You Magazine Published: 04:01 EDT, 2 November 2024 | Updated: 04:01 EDT, 2 November 2024 e-mail View comments I’ve decided to concentrate on finishing the renovation of the vicarage. I have a new kitchen, and this week the en suite for the top floor bedroom is finally installed; planning permission has taken months. I am so excited about having girlfriends to stay that I’ve gone a bit mad.
I’ve installed a mini fridge, so it’s like a hotel, bought Aesop products, candles. I’ve bought bed linen from Ikea: did you know a single Oxford cotton pillowcase is £2.50? How did I not know this? I think having a friend to stay is so much more enjoyable than a man.
They notice everything without being prompted: ‘Did you see the incredible skylight? The stone staircase? The chandelier?’ Men never seem to look up. Or get the giggles. But I have been floored this week by illness.
I have tonsillitis, again, just a few weeks after my last bout. Oh dear god, I’ve just googled sore throat after sex. Never mind my other symptoms (I’m too embarrassed to list them here), I might have oral chlamydia.
I’m getting tested tomorrow. On my last visit, the GP was quite negative, I thought. ‘As you get older, you are more prone to viruses.
Have you had a shingles jab?’ God knows what she will think now, when I turn up in stained tracksuit bottoms, mad hair (I’ve been unable to wash, or even sip water, my throat is.
