Of course being ill now is nothing like being ill when you are a kid. A sickness day in the 1970s had a certain kind of format to it. I would be transferred from bed to sofa just as Jimmy Young was piping up on Radio 2. Once there, I would be covered with The Sickness Blanket, a cholera-ridden piece of cloth handed down by my great-grandma. Accompanying this would be The Sickness Bucket. Whatever the illness, the blue plastic bucket, liberally filled with Dettol-infused water would slosh around within vomiting range. Also arranged nearby would be a copy of The Beano and a bottle of Lucozade, complete with crinkly yellow cellophane.
|Two hours that I'll never get back . . .|