JEEZ, worst night’s sleep in ten years or more. Had a bit of a tickly throat last night and put it down to sanding the office wall without a mask….

I’m up every hour, burning up, peeing and drinking a ton of water. Did I get some kind a heatstroke yesterday?

Margaret is up and busy, but I can;t even lift my head off the pillow. Meant to be going on a brewery visit this afternoon with my pal Martyn and a bunch of folks form the State Bar but the way I’m feeling I doubt I’ll make it. I call him to give a heads up and say I’ll keep him posted if I feel better later.

By midday I’m still gubbed. I call Martyn and let him know I’m out the picture for the afternoon’s activities đŸ™‚

I can’t get comfy and eventually manage to get out of bed and into the shower. That and some grub helps a bit, but the day’s nearly gone.

There’s news releases for my slot at the Red Rooster Festival to go out and I call round some newspapers and radio stations to find out current email address of those who might help spread the word.

In the shed I find a mask and goggles and make a half-assed attempt at sanding more of the office wall, but it’s pointless. Just too gubbed.

We’re going to Duncan and Irene’s for dinner – Margaret suggested calling off, but I think I’m feeling up to it – think I’m just knacked, dehydrated, overheated and suffering from sanding dust in my throat and eyes.

We have a great evening with our pals, but I’m not great company and eventually have to woose-out and call it a night a bit earlier than usual…

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