Call me Mr Unlucky, Allan. I had a high fever on Saturday night and spent all day yesterday in bed, aching all over, sweating like a bull, heart going like the clappers and with the mother and father of a headache. Mrs Steve and I slept in separate beds for the first time in this house in 34 years (because I was stinking). Mrs Steve suspected coronavirus so she promptly ordered me a test kit. The upshot of that ordering is we both have to self-isolate. I thought I had flu, even though I've had the jab. Wrong again. I woke up this morning with a severe case of cellulitis, my second in a year. The fever's gone but I'm as weak as a kitten. Hoping the the antibiotics are beginning to kick in... I can hardly walk, as the infection started in my foot. A right pickle...

And I STILL haven't had me first jab! If (when) the test comes back negative (Wednesday, I hope) at least we'll be released from prison. Last year I ended up in A&E. Better luck this time!