Winter, and the Lurgy is Upon Us

Everyone in my house has diarrhoea, or vomiting, or some combination of the two. It started with me last Thursday, and has not yet finished with me... but now, it has moved on to all the other members of my household.

I'm sorry, sweet eldest child, that you awoke covered in half-digested nuggets and stomach-soured milk, this morning. I'm sorry, lovely youngest child, that you were torn from sleep at 4 a.m., by the blistering liquid poo that filled your nappy to overflowing. Poor babies. I would have this malaise for another month or more, if I could, if it spared you from even a week of it. Indeed, I don't know why you haven't been spared.

I have been washing my hands. I have bathed even more vigourously and often than my usual one-and-a-half-ish times per day. I have avoided all but the most necessary of food preparation, up until last night, by which time I had thought I was well again. But all my caution and cleanliness is to no avail. My illness spreads :(

I'm sorry, most recent addition to my household, that even now, you sit at work; and though you try to do your work, you are forced to frequent the loo to relieve the runny tummy that has been my gift to you. It was *not* the raw eggs--I was ill long before I licked the brownie spoon, and forced you, in your turn, to have a taste. Though with your effortless intelligence and customarily deft grasp of things, you point out something I'm forced to agree with... I doubt uncooked brownie batter is helping to settle my stomach.

But the real problem started before then, and you know it.

I'm sorry, you guys. I know that if a moth sneezes in Southeast Asia, I catch a cold in Northeast England, but I didn't mean to pass my germs (pathogens!) on to all of you. Get well, my lovelies, and I'll look after you as best as I can in the meantime... and never fear.

You'll all be well again long before I am.