Pippa in Spain - Me is sick.

For those that don't know, Pippa has a flash job as editor of a nationally-distributed magazine. Which magazine it is will remain anonymous here but, as a part of her job, she gets flown around the world to various junkets where she gets to meet hugely important people who talk to her about hugely important things. Currently Pippa is in Spain. She was very excited about this trip. She's always excited about her trips. Unfortunately, I can almost 100% guarantee that the only part of Spain that Pippa is likely to see will be be the inside of airports and some boring corporate-type digs.

That's because these little jaunts are paid for by someone who wants her to see particular sights and do particular activities. And aside from their interest in what she sees and does, they have a financial interest too. So they fly her in, cram as much as they can into her schedule and fly her out before they have to pay for an extra night in a hotel so she can recover from the jet lag and pick up something local as a souvenir. This outcome is almost inevitable but hope springs eternal for Pippa. On this particular trip I think her enthusiasm and hope lasted at least 24 hours into the trip. Then we got this on Facebook, "Next time I get excited about a work trip, please mention 'remember the Spain experience?' before I get unrealistic expectations. Again."

The thing about Pippa's work trips are that, while I'm thrilled for her, I always feel a bit nervous. When Pippa disappears off the friendship radar catastrophic things tend to happen. In this instance, it's nothing spectacular (yet). After three days of being used as a human tissue by my baby boy I am, finally, as sick as a dog. Yup, the little germ piñatas have worked their magic again and naturally the height of sickness falls on a Friday giving me the weekend to feel horrible and try and recover just in time for more work on Monday. This time the bout of lurgy was somewhat more predictable than usual - the little guy has been clinging to me for comfort in his sickness for three days now and, when he's ready to sneeze, he's been seizing me with both hands and exploding directly onto my delicate person. On Wednesday I had to change my top three times.

Last night I finally fell asleep at four. I woke at seven after only three hours of sleep and felt pretty good apart from the scratchy throat and blocked sinuses. Which is how I know I'm delirious too. I worked a full day at work, getting loads done all in an effortless whirl. Luckily for my career my team leader will check my work before it's unleashed on the public. And hopefully come Monday it might have something vaguely in common with what I think I wrote. Properly structured sentences, stuff like that. I am not overly confident. In fact, as long as none of those emails contain the phrase "I'm a little teapot" I will consider the day largely a success.

To coddle my broken bod through the work experience, I existed on nothing but chicken noodle soup, diet coke (which I gave up after the third bottle when my heart started racing uncontrollably) and a Vicks inhaler donated by my generous co-worker who was sick of me snorting like a warthog. I am unsure if this was a favour, given that the application of said inhaler was like using a Q-tip to paint my nostrils and sinuses with paint stripper.

But back to Pippa. I miss her like mad. If she were here she would make me think my current state of ill health was funny. She'd probably treat me to lunch, regale me with some amusing stories of how her life sucks as much as mine and I wouldn't feel so bottom-of-the-hole crappy. I have a lot of friends and even more acquaintances. But Pippa is the only one who I can tell everything to. Better than that, she's the only one (other than Charles) who can make my horrible insecurities, angst and general trials seem amusing. I am not a person who likes to have their hand patted in a "poor you" fashion. I want someone who says suck down the concrete and harden up princess, life could be a lot worse - you could have you for a best friend instead of me.

I am aware that I'm rambling but I'm horribly sick and operating on three hours of sleep and a bunch of caffeine. I miss my friend. I hope she is having a better time and that she comes home soon - safe, cross and loaded with airport souvenirs because no one let her off the junket bus so she could shop.