Not Feeling Good

Robbie is so poorly today, the Marley's ghost stage has passed, now it is more like a death bed scene in a Victorian melodrama. He is burning hot one minute and shivering the next, his moans of agony have given way to exhausted whimpers. Poor old Robbie, I can tell he is ill, he has refused coffee and the mere mention of food made him curl up in agony. As soon as I got up I was dispatched on an emergency errand for Lucozade to satisfy his inner child. He can't actually drink it, but seeing it standing on the dressing table seems to reassure him. He managed to ring work to tell them he was ill, but other than that he hasn't even mentioned work, he has just dozed and shivered. It is unheard of for Robbie to be ill enough not to think about work.