Gastroenteritis has struck again – all night long and into the day.
Bane of my life: more feverish shakes than Scooby-Doo before the chase, so cold that teeth are chattering uncontrollably like a jibbering idiot, more wind and rain than a Hong Kong typhoon.
Nothing for it but to sit it out in misery, or until the Memsahib fetches the revolver.
In the words of Bluebottle, "Farewell cruel world! Sinks slowly into underpants."
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