As a consequence I have nothing at all to write about - unless you'd like to hear about how I glanced in the mirror a couple of times to see the spit of me dad looking hunched up and very sorry for himself. Mrs The Millbrooker described it this morning as me "walking around surrounded by a miasma of 'poorly' ".
I'm not a good patient, apparently. The main difference between my dad being poorly and me being poorly is that he probably didn't mutter obscenities under his breath every couple of minutes. At least, I never heard him and he wasn't as generally potty-mouthed as yours truly anyway.
I'm on the mend a bit now, but this doesn't help with having nothing whatsoever to write about. "Never stopped you before!" I hear the cry from the cheap seats. And indeed, 'tis true.
So, due to the lack of anything else, I thought I'd share some shots from the few short days in Brittany that Mrs The Millbrooker, Jah Cousteau and I shared last month. Just two or three from each day with minimal waffle from me; some shots are by Mrs The Millbrooker, some are by me.
Walking around the well trodden circuit of the Landes du Locarn.
Same walk - "avez-vous des champignons hypnotique, s'il-vous-plaits?"
Fly Agaric - never seen one before, very pretty - somewhat poisonous and very hallucinogenic.
Same walk again - a "welcome to my world" shot taken through the filters that I wear all the time in daylight - the Tolkien-esque forest leading away from the Gorges du Corong.
Another walk - this time a circuit over parts of the Monts d'Arree.
There might have a touch of rain in preceding days leaving the path suitable only for wading or avoiding; I generally opted for the latter.
The view from the top is always worth it.
The Lac St Michel and parts of the Yeun Elez in panorama.
All families have little rituals that might not be fully explicable outside the family circle.
Here I am waving to the River Penze. No further explanation will be forthcoming, I refer you to the sentence above.
We did a circuit of the Ile-Grand and the sun came out.
Must say, the Ile-Grand was terrific, an excellent wee pootle.
We picnicked on a headland.
Jah Cousteau finds just walking a tad dull. But he usually manages to amuse himself.
One part of the coast has hundreds of small cairns - an art installation in itself,
We stayed more or less at home, just a little outing around Trebrivan.
This passes for the suburbs of Trebrivan. It's not a large place.
Looking back at our home village.
We thought we'd try a bit of towpath walking along the Nantes-Brest Canal.
There were rewards in lovely views.
And with this being the last full day, there had to a slap-up at one of our favourite restaurants - La Rotonde in Carhaix. Seems to have changed hands since last time, but the food's still excellent. We toasted our grand holiday with our aperitifs. I, of course, had a girly drink (a cardinal).
Mrs The Millbrooker was all manly and had her usual pastis.
Jah Cousteau was just himself and had something sweet and sickly as he looked with the kind of patience only a son can have for his mother.
That's it, congratulations for getting this far.
Mrs The Millbrooker and I are off to Bath tomorrow to see the inimitable Gigspanner on the second night of their UK autumn tour and to spend a little time with BathNick and Zena over some home-cooked chicken and chorizo thingy (thank you in advance, BathNick) and a few beers.
Until next time.