From the very first punch, though, back in the sunny Hawke's Bay days of May I was on the back foot. Winter 2022 threw Covid at us. It hit my oldest son fair in the guts. The rest of us took a few punches and fell to the floor too, but essentially, we were able to dodge around it.
Then we hit back. We threw a month's worth of vitamin C gummies at it, when we remembered to take them. We also took the sting out of the kidney punch with a little Vicks VapoRub. Boy did that make it mad!
It gave us a couple of rounds to get all high and mighty, and then it launched another attack. The headbutt that gave us headaches, fevers and a cough that lasts for 12 weeks.
We tried to roundhouse it with paracetamol and extra fluids. It laughed in our face and upped the ante by using a low blow. Winter 2022 made the parents in the house and the children sick at the same time!
As I crawled away to my corner because that's all I could do, I heard Winter 2022's coach telling it to KO me.
I cried in anticipation of the final blow. I knew that he'd saved the best for last. And there it was, the main event. The one that would bring me to my knees. It unleashed the cold sore virus. I was sucker-punched well and truly and, of course, couldn't find the Zovirax. Winter 2022, you win.