I wake up still not feeling brilliant, but less suspect than the day before. On realising that I have failed to grind fresh coffee the night before, I almost give up and stay in bed, but apparently I’m made of sterner stuff than that. I get up, grind the damn coffee, and get stuck into my morning shift. It’s a pretty good session: I’m making good progress on the second draft of my creepy lighthouse story, and I’m really looking forward to seeing how the finished piece shapes up.

I head to work with only one meeting in the calendar to ruin my day. We’re a sadly diminished team this week: one person on holiday, one person sick, one person having left completely. There’s four of us in, then another person leaves due to sickness, and one more heads to another office for the day. Then there were two.

I catch up on some work and then leave early: in theory, to give Beryl a bit of respite from the Kinderbesten. However, I’m really not feeling ship-shape myself and end up resting in bed with a hot mug of Lemsip instead.

The Lemsip revives me enough for dinner to be tackled. The Elderbeast has to devise a national dish for a country he’s invented for his PEAC work. He’s selected a chicken and potato soup–for which we’ve already worked out the recipe (a.k.a shamelessly stole another recipe)–and tonight we attempt to cook it. Things start off frustratingly when the Elderbeast achieves about a 2.3% attention level. I dispatch him to his room for five minutes to rest and recuperate, and then we get back into it: this time he’s into the task and we end up with a huge pot of steaming, delicious smelling chicken soup.

And it turns out damn tasty too.