Hilary Term is over, and strangely enough I survived, despite a perhaps over-ambitious workload, too many early-morning rowing outings, and a mysterious illness which lasted three quarters of the term!

New Year's in Paris was marked not only by the Parisian bug but also a prolonged bout of stomach flu which provided variety in a season of sinus infections.   My nephews (Orson and Everest) were great fun, especially once Everest learnt my name (I am "Li", Lucy is "Si") and Orson figured out I could understand French.   I ate a great deal of exceedingly smelly and delicious cheese, much to the amusement of my siblings.

A brief weekend visit to Essex was accompanied by my third version of the flu (which I happily passed on to Geoff, only to have him mutate it and promptly give it back to me...).

For two glorious weeks, I wasn't ill!  However, I did have rowing outings practically every morning, which was almost worse, as no amount of paracetemol made the oar in my hands disappear...nevertheless, it afforded an excellent opportunity to observe moor hens (a particularly silly species of waterfowl whose necks are attached  in a manner which prevents them from moving without bobbing their heads to and fro).  That is, when we weren't sinking.  It was a rather spectacular crash in which I played a major role, as I was sitting in the seat into which the Mansfield boat decided to plow.  Thank goodness Foxey Lady was down to port, else I might have found myself skewered on that baby blue bowball! 

Little else of note occurred in February, though my tonsils did swell to an extraordinary size, causing me to snore quite horribly at night (or so I am told).  Though such matters may have preoccupied certain un-named individuals, I was far more concerned with my inability to swallow (at which--strangely enough--this un-named individual was also a bit upset), talk, or stay awake for more than eight hours straight.  Unfortunately, none of these problems caused the slightest disturbance to the National Health Service, which plied me with all sorts of antibiotics before finally condescending to send an ounce of my blood to a laboratory...a month later.  

Sometime during the above illness, my parents arrived and spent three days buying food and flowers and other such goodies for me.  This was much appreciated.  In fact, if anyone feels like buying food and flowers for me, it would be much appreciated.  (But I'll still love you, Mom and Dad!) 

The final weeks of term were a mad rush of work as the fact that I had taken on twice the normal number of subjects became hideously inescapable. 

It's all over now.  I have glandular fever, they're quite certain of that.  My work got finished (it always does, somehow, doesn't it?), the physicists finished finals and Geoff's birthday party went off spectacularly.  Only seven weeks and it all starts again...