Sick reunion

Filthy London has disgusting diseases, and I've caught one. I've been battling this one for about four or five days now, but it's almost gone. Thank you, Lemsip—you tasty medicated beverage, you. And of course, a huge shout-out to the Monkey for looking after the snivelling wretch on her doorstep and feeding it chicken soup and Advil.

My boss reckons that it's worth stocking up on food, water and guns for the impending virus outbreak. He also stabbed himself in the face with a baguette so hard that it made enough bloody marks to scare a gas station attendant into stunned silence.

Holidays are very soon! I may have a white Christmas after all—it snows in Sweden, right?