This is to be the first day of our Winter holiday... but it isn't.
I arrived in Zurich last night to discover a very poorly wife in bed with a high fever. Basically she'd been ill since Monday but had done nothing about and had gone to work as normal until she simply couldn't make it in. Except that she did. At least until lunchtime, then came home and collapsed in a heap.
So I arrived yesterday to a sick wife who no way was I going to allow to get out of bed today.
After the dog walk, I was off to the local market and the local pharmacies in search of the two things required to fix Daryl. All the drugs I could lay my hands on that would sort out her fever and her cough, and all the ingredients for a proper, life-saving chicken soup.
Mission accomplished it was back home to dose up Daryl and to make the soup.
Other than that, it was a pretty quiet day. But one filled with tension... The big question being, would Daryl be well enough after the drugs and the soup to make the six hour journey to Italy? And would she be well enough to actually enjoy the holiday itself?
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