After leaving work sick on Wednesday, I felt much better by Thursday, deteriorated Friday, and now, for the first time in my life have lost my voice. Like, actually, cannot make a recognisable audible sound.

We went to Al Ain for the day and night yesterday to catch up with some friends we made on a weekend away in Fujeirah. It was great and, despite my increasing, sick-induced sense of disengagement from the world, I just loved sitting around and chatting about lots and none at all.

Eldest boy is now running a sharp temperature which is his thing. His other thing is trying his very, very best to soldier on. He would much rather be well than sick. ‘I still feel fantastic,’ he said when woke up this morning, ‘it’s just that I usually feel more than fantastic.’ That’s the kind of lad he is.

I spent the night sharing the big bed with the lads while the mister got to sleep on the trundle bed. In this arrangement, we were both losers, and our buffet breakfast (included in the price of the hotel) was a rather more subdued affair than a buffet breakfast would normally be.

None of which is what I intended to tell you today, but honestly, I feel like rubbish, and I have lost my voice in every sense of the phrase.