Monday 23rd May

Can’t write today as I am suffering from Mum-Flu.

Mum-Flu is the same as normal flu apart from the fact that it is, I believe, not a viral infection but a psychological condition.

It is brought on, almost without exception, as a primitive defence mechanism when your brain registers that you have actually gone ahead and had a whispered conversation with Friend-Kate that included the trigger-words ‘back-pack’, ‘Heathrow’, ‘Tibet’ and ‘sod-the-lot-of-‘em’.

As a last resort, and to prevent you from actually attempting to ‘send-them-all-to-live-with-their-Dads-if-they-don’t-bloody-well-stop-screaming-at-each-other’, your body strikes you down with Mum-Flu.

You can tell that God is a man for the simple reason that in the event that you, as a muvver, ever get an attack of the ‘to-hell-with-it’s’ and seriously consider cranking up the Pointer Sisters on your car stereo, as you gleefully head toward the M25, he debilitates you with this curious condition.

Bed-bound, you are stuck with a pile of tissues, This Morning and your dreams of escape high-tailing it off down a tunnel from where the light was switched years ago.

Another interesting facet of Mum-Flu, that differentiates it from the normal strain, is that with Mum-Flu, you are still responsible for meals, school-runs and getting up every five minutes to open the front door for the little bugger’s friends.

Anyway, got to go, the doorbell just rang.

Again.