Julie Jay: I often fantasise about a spell in the sick wing

When I fell ill I imagined the house was going to fall apart in the absence of my constant cleaning and organising efforts - but turns out I am pretty dispensible

FOR the last two weeks, I have been coughing like a Victorian street urchin and have the crumpled-up tissues to prove it. Like many mammies, I often fantasise about a spell in the sick wing. My imagined illness is never anything too ‘dairíre’, just something that requires complete isolation and a darkened room with minimal interruptions, occasional cups of tea and lots of questionably flavoured sucky sweets. Of course, the reality of being sick is always a bit more ick than the fantasy would have you believe.

Having fought illness for a few days, I eventually relented and accepted I was sick on the one sunny day of the year. But I didn’t take to the bed without first putting up a proper mammy fight.