Friday. I wake up with a headache and manage about 20 words during my morning shift. Unfortunately, I have go to work because I have meetings I’ve organised that I can neither bail out of or reschedule. I make it to midday but by this point everything’s becoming a struggle and I know, for sure, that The Plague has returned.

I return home, make a Lemsip and retreat to bed. I have about an hour before the kinderbesten return from school. I end up being able to rest for a few hours more than that before Rachel takes Beryl home. I feel well enough to look after the kids, but I have to message Seb and advise him to stay away for our Fridate this week. It’s a drag, but I don’t want him to get sick, and I’m certainly not quality company on this Friday evening. I successfully feed the kids (pasta, by popular demand, with steamed veg and chicken fingers) and manage to survive until their bedtime; and, since I’m feeling so shabby, I allow both kinderbesten to take their iPads to bed with them.

I’m not quite sick enough to retreat immediately to bed so I decide to settle down on the sofa, with my sherpa throw, to watch a movie. I decide to keep up the Fridate Horror tradition and, after a protracted browse through Netflix and Stan, I finally settle on Triangle, a thriller I’ve been meaning to check out since it first came out in 2009.

It’s a good choice. I get stuck into quickly, even though I’m not 100% sure where it’s going until it gets there (I knew the basic premise, but it’s another film I’ve managed to avoid reading too much about). It stays with me afterwards, and I spend the weekend digging up various articles analysing its timey-wimey, psychodrama plot. I still haven’t got it quite figured out, which makes the whole thing even more satisfying.