The aftermath

So, we said goodbye to the Byatts and they beat a hasty retreat to the fine weather in the North, leaving us to do some much needed strimming in the garden. Nick got at all the hedgy things and did a spot of topiary, making them all look straight, neat and beautiful. The only problem being fitting all the waste into the councils recycling bin. You know our green minded Nick, so he used his daughter to tramp the branches down (see below), although I think his body weight had more of an effect!

Then the day carried on uneventfully, until... 10pm. That fateful hour when, oh my! Nicholas is dying. In his defense, his vomiting was quite impressive and smelly, however, I don't think it warranted the amount of sympathy he kept complaining he wasn't getting. He lay on the sofa, hand on forehead, regaling his woes to me and the children ALL DAY - no school for him, no rest for me. What did I do to deserve that? Hmmm.

Anyway, the little soldier has forced himself in to school today.
Liz; "Do you think it's a good idea to go?"
Nick (in excessively weak and pathetic voice); "I have to."

And we all say together... "Ahhhh"