Sympathy and paracetamol, please

I last turned up for work on Friday morning. I didn't see the shift through and have been sitting at home alternately shivering and sweating bucket loads ever since. Christmas 'flu has taken hold of the poor old Millbrooker. And yes - it's 'flu; not a cold. I haven't got any cold symptoms at all. It is man-flu, though, so it's very serious.

This means that already rushed and chaotic preparations for the yule have been largely neglected as I sit around uttering profanities to myself and anyone else who'll listen. During any of the times that I've ventured out of bed my apparel has featured numerous layers of fleeces and body warmers, thermal long-johns and corduroys. This is despite having the central heating on all day, and everyone else moaning about how hot it is in Millbrooker Towers.

Mrs The Millbrooker and The Wizzers of Soz (who's back in residence for while) remain mercifully unaffected, but sadly The Depitty arrived home last night looking as if the life was draining out of him; I guess that'll be him laid up for a few days.

I say thank goodness for codeine and paracetamol, a combination of which has kept me at least vaguely human these last few days. I think returning to work is still some days off...