It was inevitable.
Both Mrs S and daughter #1 have been spreading (or is that spraying!) their germs about.
I did make it to the gym this morning — it was a long time ago I pushed weights — and now, well, I feel rubbish.
The nose is running; I'm full of 💨; and my chest is suddenly tight — never a good sign at my age (52).
I've had to cancel my attendance at my sister-in-law's for New Year's Eve; she says she's disappointed as she was relying on me to provide the entertainment. That's not a euphemism for me being pi**ed and acting up, but I'm normally the only one who doesn't talk about Rugby!
I'll keep writing, reading, drinking water (I'm doing dry January) and, hopefully, give it a day or so, I will feel better.
If I don't get a chance before the clock strikes 12, happy New Year to you all.
I've no idea what the next decade will bring but let's hope (more than anything else) we get a grip of the climate catastrophe that's writ large wherever you are in the world.