I suppose it was a cold- or possibly a sinus infection. It got more and more debilitating. I kept myself from dwelling on it by watching The Devil's Whore on my portable DVD player (after all I wasn't having half as bad a time of it as Angelica Fanshawe- one husband shot to death by Charles I, a second murdered on Cromwell's orders) but in the end I couldn't cope any longer and took myself off to bed and Ailz very kindly managed my mother for the rest of the evening. I slept well and all I remember of my dreams is a passage of very vivid colour. I had this shopping bag and it was yellow. Very, very yellow.
This morning I seem to have left whatever it was behind. I'm tired, weak, but fit for duty again.