{"id":629,"date":"2010-01-14T12:50:55","date_gmt":"2010-01-14T12:50:55","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.jamesramsden.com\/?p=629"},"modified":"2010-01-14T12:50:55","modified_gmt":"2010-01-14T12:50:55","slug":"feed-that-cold-tartiflette","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.jamesramsden.com\/2010\/01\/14\/feed-that-cold-tartiflette\/","title":{"rendered":"Feed that cold [tartiflette]"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/a><\/p>\n Manflu<\/a> struck this week. Yes, I was at death’s door for the best part of two days – my throat nothing but daggers and razor blades, my head obfuscated and giddy, my nose, oh – so runny, so, so runny. Cadaverous days followed sleepless nights. At one point I even drank some lemsip – it was that bad.<\/p>\n But I had to eat. I’m not going to go hungry just because I feel rough. Quite the opposite in fact – it is in eating that one’s health is restored, one’s body realigns, those nasty little bacteria retreat and normality resumes. Probably. I mean, I’m not a doctor, but it would seem that eating raises the spirits and gives the body the resolve it needs to fight the pathogenic invasion. You have to feed a cold.<\/p>\n And that’s just what I did. In fact, I was so convinced that this tartiflette would make me better that I tweeted<\/a> about it. And, as Borat might say, it was great success.<\/p>\n