Corinna and I are slowly but surely recovering from what I believe (and the doctor did not argue with me) was a dose of the Swine Flu. Graham, who caught it first, presumably whilst on his big Hawkwind trek three weeks ago is still recovering, but is well on the mend. Recovery is a slow and painstaking process but we are getting there.
Oliver, poor boy, has a particularly nasty cold, and is quite unwell. However, three of us - at least - are recovering.
Another piece of good news: Gavin Lloyd Wilson is back! Welcome back my dear, we have missed you.
However, we are still very much on our beam ends, so if any of you feel like writing me some bloggo contributions, please do. Send them to firstname.lastname@example.org
Meanwhile, wrapped in a blanket by a log fire all day, I feel like my Grandad. He was a venerable old man who was born on August 8th 1888 (all the 8s as he liked to brag) and had been a fighter pilot in WW1. After the war he seduced and ran off with the eldest daughter of a gentleman farmer from an ancient Sussex family and the rest is history. I came back to England a year before he died, by which time he spent all day, every day, sitting by the fire, wrapped in a blanket, and continually smoking a pipe. I have always imagined that this is how Surabuya Johnny spent his dotage.
Thank you for letting me share that, but the old chap has been in my thoughts a lot for the last week....