Thursday 9th October 2025

I have flu.

Third degree man flu.

And had less than three hours sleep.

I was barely able to speak.

Jools is fine, a loving Florence Nightingdroid, making me teas, snacks and bringing me more tissues when needed.

All in all, I was a sad little man.

In contrast, the weather was glorious, a throwback to hight summer, with the sun just too warm to sit out in, and light winds to cool a hot cat down.

My body went from ice cold, to just under boiling.

Jools worked in the garden, so I sat with Scully looking on at the glory that is our garden, and the views to the village beyond.

I am not really hungry, but eat with Jools to be sociable, if I'm honest.

In the afternoon, a fresh looking Peacock butterfly is basking and feeding, and stayed long enough for me to go inside, get my camera, switch lenses, and walk back.

And it was still there.

So I snapped it, and again when it landed high in the hedge.

I cook fajitas for dinner. We've been going to have them all week, but not hungry enough when it came to the evening meal, so we had snacks.

For the evening there was football.

International football: England v Wales in a friendly. I really should have gone to bed, but I sit up, and England romp to a 3-0 lead in twenty minutes, then miss a series of chances.

It ends, 3-0. I go to bed, dog, dog tired.

My congestion had gone, so I slept well.

And long.