Yesterday was my 39th birthday. It all started well enough. Cards and gifts (including The complete book of sea fishing (second hand) from my always romantic husband!!). Katie threw up all over me on Friday – twice, but we put it down to her gluttony. So yesterday morning we set out for Plymouth even though the forecast for the weekend was terrible – high wind and rain. We had a nice day aboard. Julian got the mizzen sail up and I did some more unpacking. In the afternoon we went to a pub in Turnchapel and liked it so
much we decided to stay for dinner. We took the girls to a playground for a while but Lily wasn’t too happy so we went back to the pub to order dinner. It was when our food was served that the fun began. Lily immediately threw up all over herself and the floor of the pub. Basins of water and cloths later I gobbled my dinner down fast and we raced back to the
boat. Lily continued to throw up every half hour or so for the next few hours covering, me, duvets, pillows, you name it, in puke.
But worse. We weren’t long back in the boat when Julian announced he was feeling queasy and then he started to throw up. I felt I was drowning in a sea of vomit!! We had very little sleep last night and this morning I had to resume my role as Florence Nightingale as the boat tossed about in the wind and driving rain and my diseased family lay all around me.
I’m writing this from the launderette where I’m washing duvets and pillows. Yet another birthday to remember for the wrong reasons. The patients are all on the mend but grouchy and crochetty.