I'm mostly back to normal now after the norovirus, with only residual whining. Lorraine much better too.
I made it as far as the local shops to buy bread, otherwise I lay low, reading an interesting non-fiction book by David Grann called The Lost City of Z about a fanatical Amazon explorer called Major Percy Fawcett who -- having mapped and explored vast areas of the Amazon -- made his last journey in search of a mythical lost city, never to return. Some vile descriptions of what 1920s insects can do to you there. My God, the flappers.
The Natwestisögur continues. Like an ancient Viking heading for Iceland over the stormy seas, I wrote again to my complaint handler, as the request for a bank card to go with my account has disappeared without trace, despite having a reference number etc. I told Lorraine I had got an out of office message from him, and she told me the clue is in the name: it's a bank holiday.
Mrs Kenny and I watched the second episode of Vigil a claustrophobic thriller about a woman detective, played by Suranne Jones, aboard a nuclear submarine trying to solve a murder. The Navy and Police at loggerheads. Entertaining. I find the idea of being aboard a windowless submarine for months terrifying.
I have, however, been in a submarine twice. Once in Barbados and the other in Mauritius. The moment they screw the hatch down provokes a moment of reflection, but it really is like being in a plane where you get to see fish and seabeds instead. I chiefly remember how the colour drains in order of the spectrum as you go deeper. I watched the teeshirt of the man sit in front of me quite quickly turn from red to black.
Went to bed later than we had hoped, partly because I began playing vintage Salt N Pepa videos, and Lorraine was deep in her new Nintendo Switch game, Stardew Valley, where she is now an increasingly prosperous farmer.