From a conversation overheard in a random pub on Thursday night, as two men discuss their gay friend and their own love life woes.

Man 1 to Man 2: If I were gay and you were gay, I’d shag you.

Man 2: (Drinks pint)

So, according to NHS Direct:

You may have gastroenteritis or food poisoning. If it is very mild, avoid solid food and milk for a day and drink only non-alcoholic fluids. Your pharmacist will advise you about medicines to stop diarrhoea (find your nearest pharmacist). If it is severe or there is also pain, or blood in your bowel motions, call NHS Direct.

A great example of when having a concise medical description of your condition can actually end up making you feel worse about it rather than better. Still, apparently my condition is “safe to manage at home”, meaning I guess, “don’t bother calling us unless it gets worse”.

Maybe I shouldn’t have gone into work yesterday after all. But the flat was a tip after the day before, when my day of working from home had turned into a morning of answering a couple of emails followed by lots of falling asleep for the following 18 hours.

So this weekend I will be resting by mostly not leaving the flat, aside from the occasional trip down the road to buy more bread and soup. Maybe it’s good practice for later on in life when I discover that I can no longer leave the house and have become dependent on a laptop computer and old episodes of the O.C. to keep myself sane.

I’d like to think that when I reach the grand age of one-squillion-and-one – or however old we end up living until no doubt much to the Government’s consternation – I’ll have better things to amuse myself with than watching the moment where Marissa dies over and over again, but I probably won’t. Imagine how dated Ryan’s hair will look by then though. Wow.