under the weather

I mentioned the fact that I'm not feeling so well to an English friend who replied, "Sorry you're feeling 'under the weather' as we say here..."

And that's a common phrase here as well. I'd never wondered about the derivation of the phrase before, but the notion that 'furriners' say the same thing prompted me to investigate. One explanation from the interwebz claims that the term refers to mal de mer, or seasickness. This makes some sense, as a ships motion increases when navigating more dynamic sea states, and weather (though not always local weather) generally causes the waves and chop associated with "stormy" seas.

When the deck under your feet moves around, you also move around, as does the fluid in your inner ear. The inner ear is part of the mechanism that helps you balance and stay upright. Humans are land creatures and unaccustomed to the movement of the sea. For many people the movement of a ship is just an interesting and even enjoyable experience. For some though it causes the misery of seasickness.

I never came close to suffering mal de mer on a ship, and that includes a few days here and there on destroyers and frigates in some pretty rough weather.

I did, however, find a couple of flight regimes which could cause airsickness. With the SAS switched off the Sea King wallowed around the sky like a drunken pig (Dutch roll) and my tummy never liked that, although it never caused real nausea. Just an unsettled feeling.

The one thing that would cause nausea was to enter an aileron roll with my head turned 180 degrees to the roll vector. Yeah, that would do it.

Anyway, I've been fighting a "something" ever since returning from the west coast. I think it's only a mild head cold. Symptoms are nothing more than a stuffed-up head, a bit of a dry cough, tiredness and some aches and pains.

It's miserable, really.

But it's not seasickness, nor does it include nausea. So am I under the weather?

There's magic going on in my body, however, as my immune system attacks and destroys the pathogenic invaders. Without orders, without permission, without government blessing, without tee-vee reporters weighing in, without any 'merkins being viciously attacked and victimized.

Of course now that I've written this my unfair privilege is sure to spark an incipient protest alight in Portland, and some window-licking lunatic will stab a nun with an AR-15.

Butt I digress.

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How do you move heavy poles?