Well, what a Bank Holiday weekend it’s turned out to be.

On Friday night/Saturday morning I developed a dollop of what we think was food poisoning – it might’ve been something viral from somewhere, as Herself has also gone down with the same thing today, but we’re not sure – which led to explosive levels of fluids being expelled from the body. (No, I’m not going to go into details, I’m sure you’ll figure it out)

It meant that all our plans for Saturday went tits-up from the start, and the rest of the weekend followed suit. Herself knew I was feeling really bad, because I went back to bed and slept twice on Saturday – all told, about four hours. That’s just something I never do. Coupled with that, any time I stood up, Gravity took over, and caused a quick dash to the nearest toilet. Yes, for 24 hours I was Gravity’s Bitch.

Sunday wasn’t much better, although was better, and today’s been OK (so far) for me, although Herself picked up the same complaints last night and is currently crashed out in bed still.

About the only good thing that’s come out of it is that at least I’ve been ill on a weekend, and thus didn’t lose out on any money coming in. And that’s a pretty poor silver lining for any cloud.