So now David has me all paranoid about this evil stomach flu that's sweeping through Britain. Should I let Tony come visit me from Newcastle? It's on the list of diseased cities with hurling people - gaaaah! I love how the BBC describes the symptoms as feeling fabulous one minute, then without warning, yakking up a lung for the next 24-36 hours. So not only does this flu cause you to vomit violently, it comes without warning. EX-cellent.
On a non-vomiting related note, dinner tonight was pretty good. You don't get a lot of choices, but it's a good concept if you're in a larger group. We shared a bunch of dishes (none of them terribly unique, but tasty nonetheless) and had a fun time stuffing ourselves and guzzling wine. One of the blokes at dinner was Scottish. I've always liked Scottish people but now I think they are absolutely brilliant, based on one revelation from this evening - Scottish people understand what it's like to have English people mock their accents and they don't find my accent annoying. In fact, the Scottish man said that he thought my accent sounded a bit like his. Bless.
When I win a million pounds, I'm going to buy a house in Skye.
A very happy Burns Night to you all. Don't ask what's in the haggis.
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