Game of Porcelain Thrones

 Oog.  There's a reason I haven't been around much this Easter: Food poisoning!

§

 On Thursday, Inexcuseable and I prepared a birthday tea for The Father (it was his birthday on Wednesday, but we were both at work late on the day). It was a bit of a rush job, as I was out with Indescribable all afternoon house hunting (some of the larger ones can get up quite a clip, and the smaller ones are a bugger for finding once they've gone to ground) - she's looking for a place up here on the coast as she's got a new job. 
 When we got back to Castlette DeVice, I bunged a load of potatoes in the oven to bake, then set about decorating the cake I'd made that morning. Meanwhile, Indescribable returned to The Parents' to collect them, The Little Witch (née Babyzilla) and Babyzooky. Inexcuseable then arrived to sort out all the trappings to go with the potatoes (cheese, tuna, salad etc.) and try and wake her husband (who'd been at work since ridiculous-o'clock and, upon returning, immediately fell into a sleep deep enough to inspire a maleficent fairy spurned from a royal christening, or something).

The view west from the clifftop at Trimingham - That's Sidestrand in the distance. Indescribable and I looked at a couple of houses near here.

Mind your step!

 
 Anyway, having so many family members in a small space went surprisingly well (I should have known something would go wrong). After tea, cake, coffee and mints, we kicked everyone out, breathed a sigh of relief, and went to bed.

§

 I was rudely awakened at four in the morning by Inexcuseable loudly throwing up in the bathroom. I heaved myself out of bed, staggered down to the east wing and was assured that she was OK and it was nothing to do with the rapidly growing parasite foetus lodged in her womb. I got her some water while she continued to blow chunks, then I returned to my pit.
 I woke again at about eight, sauntered downstairs upon hearing Inexcuseable on the phone to The Parents - They'd been up since the early hours hurling their guts up, too! I got halfway down when my stomach churned violently so I raced back up to the bathroom yelling "Me too!". Strangely, neither Indescribable nor her two little cowbags darlings suffered. Not so strangely, Inexcuseable's husband didn't suffer either as he couldn't be roused from his slumber and slept through the meal, the evening, the night, and his wife's spewgusting!
After a lot of deliberating, cogitating and digesting, we've narrowed the suspect down to something salad related - possibly the lamb's lettuce, or green potatoes (which at least one of us would have noticed, so we've kind of ruled the potatoes out)? Although, it could be the mayonnaise? And I can't find my little jar of black nightshade anywhere...

§

 Well, I spent all of Good Friday (hah!) alternately in bed and atop the porcelain throne. By Saturday, I was half a stone lighter, but managing to keep down water and sweet mint tea (and, by evening, grissini breadsticks). Sunday saw the daring reintroduction of more adventurous solids to my diet (apricot jam on toast, more breadsticks, beans on toast, and a very small piece of chocolate cake - which I didn't finish). 
And then, this morning I felt fine, so I ventured out to potter around in the garden. I also thinned out my wardrobe and, this afternoon, popped down to the beach for some bracing sea air and exercise.

What?! You didn't think I was going to show you the contents of my porcelain throne, did you?

The Forties Sentinel

Gah! Sun!

Cumulus and cirrus clouds