I came back from Mexico with post honeymoon exhaustion, a cheesy tan and the flu. I was sure it was the usual plane cold, but nothing prepares you for the terror of being labelled ‘unclean’.
It was a couple of days after we came back that the pig flu media frenzy began. We had been innocently mixing with friends and neighbours. We had been to salsa, yoga, travelled on the tube, shopped in the supermarket, and shared pizzas in a crowded park café in central London.
Should I be the ethical good citizen, call the doctor, confess I have flu and let all hell break loose? Or should I err on the side of self preservation, go to ground and avoid the loss of face and friendships?
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