High temperature (although admittedly not as bad as yesterday afternoon). Sore throat — can hardly speak, and the idea of eating food causes me to wince with the antipation of pain. Bah.

Not much to say therefore unless I have any draft posts kicking about I can dust down, or I feel better later on. Otherwise I’ll continue to alternate between sleep, throat spray and trying to mime to the wife and kids.

Update: when I’m suffering from a sore throat, and generally feeling ill and sorry for myself is precisely when I don’t want to discover that — when one common cause of a sore throat is Streptococcal pharyngitis — that an award-winning comedy writer has died of a Streptococcus infection aged about 40.

Normal service may be resumed tomorrow therefore, assuming that this sore throat doesn’t kill me.