THE irony was not lost on the editor when I called to tell him his health reporter had swine flu.

My boyfriend and I had just been to the Latitude festival in Suffolk and I had joked with him when we arrived that with 30,000 people all camped in one place, some poor soul was bound to get swine flu.

That poor soul turned out to be him, feverishly and explosively succumbing to swine flu at 3am the day we got home.

After turning to NHS Direct’s swine flu symptom checker and making a quick call to the GP it was confirmed, and Tom was confined to bed.

Two days later I too was under house arrest after falling ill at work. My temperature soared while I felt freezing cold, my head began to pound and I ached all over.

The question now was what should I do? Did I have a social obligation to tell everyone I had swine flu? Should I paint a big red cross on my door, leave a note on the kitchen table and confine myself to my room?

After calling the swine flu hotline and NHS Direct to have the dreaded illness confirmed, I called the Adver and told my boss, expecting him to say: “Right, I need a day-by-day account of swine flu and a 450-word feature piece on your experience.”

Thankfully I got a more sympathetic: “Stay at home and get better – no, really, please don’t come into the office.”

When I told my housemates, the dynamic in the house transformed.

They were healthy strapping young men and I was the incubus of viral plague who had brought disease into their home – what’s more I had turned the living room into a no-go area.

After 12 hours of relentless sweating and aching I was excited by the prospect of alleviating the symptoms with some blessed Tamiflu.

But after reading a list of side effects including mild to moderate nausea, vomiting and diarrhoea – possibly the only three symptoms I wasn’t suffering from – I decided to brave it with some trusty aspirin.

I would say I was one of the lucky ones. I had things a lot milder than the virus I have heard described on the news.

Or maybe those who have been unable to leave their beds were suffering the bug coupled with the anti-viral side-effects.

While a friend was in bed for four days crippled with headaches, nausea and a fear of dying, I was more bored than anything else.

I balanced my cheque book, paid my bills by phone, replied to emails and post, caught-up with some Jeremy Kyle and alphabetised by record collection – like I said, I was bored.

In fact the worst part of swine flu, aside from the mind-numbing boredom and isolation, was the feeling of great responsibility.

With all medical advice saying to go about your normal business unless you develop symptoms, I’d returned to work after the festival.

Two days later, of course, it was clear I hadn’t escaped the bug but the feeling making me most sick was guilt over whether I’d passed it to others.

When I told a colleague my boyfriend had it, he demanded I went home immediately for fear of passing it on to him – who would in turn give it to his toddler.

I was looking forward to hearing that the bug had stopped with me when I walked back into work on Monday after five days off, but those who asked how I was were more concerned I might be carrying it.

I told them what every health authority seems to be screaming from the rooftops: when all is said and done, swine flu, if you are fit and healthy, is just that – flu.