I woke up this morning feeling dreadful, the bedclothes soaked in sweat, and then took the morning off work, figuring sleeping was going to be more productive than going to the office and coughing over everyone. I had a confused dream where I had my bike stolen, and woke at 11 wondering how I was going to get it back, simultaneously aware that I’d dreamt that.
Paracetamol helped and I got through some work in the afternoon, before fetching the girls from school in the middle of a massive rainstorm. At least Frogmorton is content to stay inside with us and not try to get out.
The girls fell asleep quickly this evening and we zoned out in front of the TV, when I had resolved to write the first chapter of Boris Galoshes. Tomorrow, my literary ambition increases.