Feeling rough with a streaming cold. Did a couple of hours first thing, and mooched off to buy some more paracetamol, some bread, and post off a letter containing a photocopy of my passport and a utility bill to Ken's solicitors, as I am to receive a small legacy from the dear old thing.

This done, all my energy evaporated, and I spent the rest of the day like a sea cucumber on the gold sofa, rallied to tidy kitchen, cook a soup, to which Lorraine served up and added cream and other bits when she got home.

And so, snufflingly, like a rough beast to bed.