By the time I staggered from my bed to get some more soluble paracetamol – the only thing providing relief from fever and involuntary writhing – I’d been flat on my back for eighteen hours, and the virus clearly wasn’t done with me yet.
All I can say is: if the Boy Wonder felt half as bad on Saturday and into Sunday as I do now, he’s a tiny hero for being as lovely as he managed to be through most of the weekend.
Normal service may will resume. Sooner or later.
