Generally Stricken

Then it all went a bit downhill.  A general strike in Brussels meant that I could not get to Brussels from Paris as planned on 22 December.  I had meetings set up all over the place that needed rapid cancellation/rescheduling.  Fortunately, I was just outside the minimum cancellation period for the hotel so wasn't charged for that.

Never mind.  I made it safely to the Paris train.  And then got ill.  I never get ill.  It is full-blown tubercular coughing disease fever and has lasted over the entire festive period.  A cocktail of nurofen and Cremant de Borgogne or Bailey's has helped me through.  The coughing is of the variety designed to empty one's body of spare organs.  I think my spleen is still attached. 

I'm not sure if it's the fever or the drink but last night I dreamed that Beyoncé gave birth to an elephant.  Only it wasn't actually her - she had a surrogate elephant birthgiver.  All very suspicious.

We have been playing a lot of games when I haven't been too feverish - and the phrase of the week has been "If you get this right, I'll show my tits to your neighbours".  My daughter has a large window, you see, overlooking many flats.  So far I have not had to do it.  They have witnessed me dancing like Tom Jones though, so nothing will probably surprise them.

Now, is it too early for fizzy booze?