Got through the day at work with my husk of a voice. My fellow TA was also croaky and I saw on Look North that the Bishop of York has also lost his voice. Must be something going around. Last night when my voice started to go, I was convinced that my visit to the hygienist after work yesterday must’ve been the cause. Wouldn’t have put it past my old hygienist, who I suspect did her training under Josef Mengele at Auschwitz.
“We have ways of severing your vocal chords Frau Brewer!”
Bloody hygienist! I know you need to look after your teeth & all that but I always feel violated and abused. Getting jabbed in the gums with what feels like an ice pick. Being berated for having a shit mouth, while pinned to a chair wearing a bib & Men in Black shades. Then they stiff you £60 for the privilege.
Anyway, today I limped through the day, teaching swimming and Quidditch via the medium of sign language, whispered tones and occasionally using a willing volunteer as a Voice. An Alan Rickman’s metatron to my Alanis Morrisette* if you will.
Drinking lots of water in the hope that normal service resumes tomorrow (although I quite enjoyed not saying much TBH. Maybe the universe is telling me to shut the F up).
*from ‘Dogma’, non film buffs.