Dear Mr. A
As you know from our many phone conversations, I am really struggling to feel better my love. In an email to my sister yesterday, all I could say was Badger's arse. Now I know that you know this and you are being so wonderfully comforting, but I think you fail to understand the severity of my suffering.
Had I known last week, what quite was in store for me, I would never have babysat Phoebe. I love her right down to the tips of her toes, but now find myself checking for little devil horns under all those curls. I know in her heart she did not want to pass a horrible virus on to me, and has been very contrite since...but darling....5 days since the last horrible episode and I still feel like Mr and Mrs Norovirus have not only setting up home, but have added numerous extensions to accommodate all the little baby viruses - I mean, these guys make the rabbit reproduction cycle look almost pachydermic!
I need to express to you how important it is for you to come home and care for your poor, incapacitated wife. Darling, I also just don't understand how, when you told your superiors of my condition, they did not deem it necessary to evacuate you home immediately! I also don't understand why you seem so pleased to be so far away, and what do you mean by whiny and high-pitched?
As always, you devoted ( and really rather ill) wife
XXX
PS - I would have thought the idea of mopping my brow and feeding my ice chips would appeal......no?
On a more serious note everyone, my buddy in America drew this to my attention:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1246410/No-time-chill-Marines-endure-temperatures-30c-Arctic-prepare-combat-Afghanistan.html
