Charcoal and other fun things

I was dreadfully ill last night, and I think after a few hours of me getting out of bed every twenty minutes, my wife determined I wasn’t malingering, and so this morning she went out and purchased some charcoal tablets to settle my stomach. My body remained rebellious for quite some time, but by about 9 this evening it seems to have finished with full-on purge mode. Bless those little black pills for absorbing all the rottenness in my alimentary canal.

Because I spent most of today lying weakly on the floor of the bathroom, or else lying in bed, I’ve been reading, and I got to catch up with all the half-read copies of the London Review of Books that litter the flat. The main thing I learned from them is that the American TSA were profiling people at airports based on suspicious behaviour, and several of the suspicious activities were yawning, whistling, and fidgeting. If only they could have added “being vomitted over by your daughter” to the mix then I’d never have got on a plane in the last three years.

La Serpiente returned from her holiday programme today, and told me she didn’t do martial arts. I’m not sure what she’s done this week, as she’s been very unclear on the details, apart from that they ate some food, and didn’t play outside because it was raining. I assume she’s up to something…

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