So it turns out there is a downside to not spending eight hours a day, five days a week packed into a closed humid office with a load of germ-laden people, coupled with two hours or so a day packed into a closed humid train with a different load of germ-laden people, fun as it was at the time.
It means that, come the Christmas break, your immune system is as naive and innocent as that of some isolated Amazonian tribe. Introducing four small children to such a system – lovely as they are – is akin to conquistadors turning up with cholera-laden blankets: not a good idea. I’m now on either my second bout of two different Norovirus strains, or an unpleasant extension of the first. But fortunately for all concerned we’ve retreated back into our remote fastness where, if nothing else, the cold will see to the germs either directly or by putting me out of my misery first. At the moment, I’m not too bothered which…
But even that may not be certain, for – in one piece of Christmas good news – we arrived back home to find that in our absence our landlord had insulated our loft. The fact that, prior to this, there was no loft insulation at all – unless you count a century’s accumulation of dust – may explain why we’ve been feeling the chill.
Prepare for the scuttling of tiny feet – dinnae ye fret, am not accusing you of getting broody after visiting babymother – sick kids are good contraception – but the only reason our doormice (very cute rat with squirrelish tail) have moved on to pastures new is that they’ve used up all our nice nesting material! Anyone know if they eat solidified foam?
Any dormice are going to have to get past me first – we need our insulation!!!
Oh dear, poor you. I hope it builds up future immunity. And throwing up is so much less fun when the bathroom’s freezing, isn’t it?
Very much enjoyed the book, by the way. More twists in the tail than I expected, to put it mildly: so much more than just a thriller.
Thanks – that has cheered me right up.