I appear to have brought home a rather pesky cold from Vanuatu which is, if I may use the common parlance for a moment, completely retarded. I mean, malaria I would accept as only my due (though we were sucking down the tonic water like it was, well, water, albeit liberally salted with gin). Something exotic and tropical and probably mosquito-borne seems appropriate. Of course, everything that fits that description is a horrible, awful, debilitating thing to have, so I should suck it up and deal, but hey! I'm sick! I'll whinge if I feel like it!

Lord knows there's precious little else to do but build little houses out of germ-infected tissues and try to see if I can replicate Anthony's feat of snotting in his own eye.