Lorraine has food poising, or perhaps even a norovirus, as she was vomiting on a regular basis from this morning. A temperature of over 101 in the owd munney late this afternoon when I took it. We had been emptying the freezer of frozen stuff and she cooked a chicken dish from some long frozen chicken bits hidden among mammoths and dead sea scrolls etc. which she ate last night. I had to throw the rest away today.
I was working lots today, so did not notice a message on my muted phone. It was only when a poorly Lorraine came into my office that I realised she was ill. Kept my door and ears open after that for any squeaks. Poor thing couldn't even keep down water till the evening.
Otherwise a bit of banter from poets about our meeting yesterday, and a day of slogging at the freelance job -- only for the goalposts to move yet again after 6pm -- with something of a re-brief. Luckily it didn't affect me or Keith too badly, as we had ignored the terrible brief and tried to work out what was important ourselves.
Work done, Lorraine monitored, a quick bit of TV and a light supper and then, careful of a sleeping Lorraine, gratefully to bed.