Ring of fire

In bed with either a bug or the remains of one of last night’s jumbo prawns. Bottom blasting on all cyinders this morning. Managed to get to work, via a crucial loo stop at the children’s school and a distinctly awkward bus journey. But there was more to come, so I stumbled home, with miserable consequences. After it all ran out, I slept for 3 hours and am finally succumbing to the medicinal powers of Coca Cola (kills all known germs dead).

Meanwhile, my dearest and betterest half, The Wave, has left work early, picked the children up from school (including promised play date), made them tea and no doubt cleaned up as well. His purging is legendary, thank heavens, because I’m in a very minor cleaning league. Indeed, he has just come upstairs for the hoover to clear up Blueboy’s most recent protest – an upturned pot plant all over the sitting room carpet, because, apparently, the girls were given a special Chocolate Pudding after Blue had left the table saying he didn’t want any pudding at all (and there were only ever two – whoops).

I continue to languish pathetically in bed, just perky enough to tap away from time to time, but with no desire for food or company. I occasionally sip flat Coke and when anyone comes in, I smile weakly. It’s almost restful…


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