1st April 2013

Since returning home, Sue and I have been knocked sideways by chest colds. Between the bitterly cold weather and the daily flurries of snow, neither of us has felt much like venturing out. Charlotte and her crew came over after she’d taken Ellis to lunch at Nan’s. I’d popped in to see Nan that morning but kept my distance, no sense sharing our lurgy with her. Jamie appeared later in the evening, fresh from his snowboarding holiday and full of tales that made my sneezing fits feel even less glamorous.

Sarah, meanwhile, was still sunning herself in Tunisia with Lee. Facebook updates showed off beaches, palm trees, and temperatures that made me both envious and suspicious. Surely it can’t be that nice in March?

Friday brought Curry Night, with everyone but Charlotte around the table. Between spoonfuls of spicy sauce, we swapped stories. I shared a video of our Brazil adventure (carefully edited to make me look more adventurous than I am), while Jamie’s photos of Andorra put the rest of us to shame, snow-capped peaks, daring slopes, and not a single tissue in sight.

Despite the chest rattle, I hauled myself to the Angel on Saturday to watch the Tigers give Northampton a proper trouncing in the Aviva Premiership. Naturally, I’m now regretting not snapping up the bargain tickets for the final last September. Hindsight, as ever, is cheaper than foresight.

Sarah returned on Sunday, and we all gathered for a pork lunch, courtesy of Jamie, who seems to juggle work, cooking, and car repairs with alarming ease. Suraj and I even helped him fit a new exhaust in the afternoon, fresh from his morning dash to Maidenhead to collect it. The lad’s calendar is fuller than mine ever was.

On Easter Monday, Sue and Sarah joined the Rothwells for an egg hunt near Kettering, where Lucas triumphed as the lucky winner. I, meanwhile, staged my own hunt for tissues, paracetamol, and another hot water bottle. Man flu is no laughing matter, and I bravely suffered in silence (except for the occasional groan loud enough to rattle the windows).

I did, however, put my house arrest to good use by tidying up the holiday blog posts. Writing them half-asleep on a tablet, in the dark, without proofreading, had produced some spelling calamities and not a single photograph. It took the whole day, but at last the posts are polished, though sadly, the tissues remain unedited.