During the Black Plague, there was a village in the north of England that made the decision not to try to escape the disease when villagers became infected. In doing so they would create a kind of barrier, and stop the disease spreading further, thereby saving many lives. That was us on Friday. The boys and I had been stricken with a tummy bug so revolting that, well, I won’t go into details, but uuuuggghhh, it seemed inevitable Edie would get it and thereby infect the whole nursery. So we kept her at home, fit as a flea, full of energy. Have you ever looked after a toddler and a vomiting three year old whilst ill yourself? So. Much. Fun. Andrew came home whenever he had a free lesson to take her and Raff out so I could concentrate on wanting to die in peace, before getting really ill himself. After five days of uuuuugggghhh we are finally all ok. But Father’s Day celebrations suffered. Ours started with healthy carrot muffins that wouldn’t cook, lunch was a horrible, horrible pizza, there were tears and rain and dizzy spells and emergency trips to the loo, vegi burgers tinted with salmon and a dog fight. But just like the brave, selfless Black Plague villagers we have suffered through together. So if your Father’s Day was #magical I’m delighted for you, really. You however will not go down in history as the family who stopped the Tummy Bug of 2018 in it’s tracks.