It looks as though The Prof has a rather nasty bout of food poisoning.
A case of a dodgy prawn quiche in Dublin airport he thinks.
I think it's a case of too much work, not enough sleep coupled with a bad prawn but what do I know?
" Do you think it could be EBola?" The Prof asked weakly from his deathbed this morning
" There's not a great deal of EBola in North Wales" I replied.
This morning's convalescence has only been interrupted the once when Albert
brought a live sparrow into the bedroom, with all four dogs hysterically in tow
I was busy preparing a light toast breakfast, so the first thing I heard of the event was the Prof
croaking a rather muted " Bird BIRD! B-I-R-D" in an effort not to raise his abdominal pressure too much
Luckily the sparrow escaped through the open bathroom window before it was gassed to death
( if you get my drift)