I'm sitting at my desk at home, sandwich in hand, a morning of toil behind me and about to head to Bradford City Hall to complete my day's work. But I'm very tired.
Jamie's coughing, sneezing and, more particularly, wheezing was much worse last night. So much so that we had to whip him across for a short notice appointment with the doctor a couple of hours ago just to check everything is alright. Thankfully it is - other then the coughing, sneezing and wheezing.
According to the GP, he may have something called bronciolitis (work it out) but probably not. However, for the next week at least, my boy and I are going to continue to fall out as I try to get him to take his inhaler.
He absolutely hates it and, as such, the only way I can get him to breathe in the fumes is to put him in a headlock. Reassuringly, the doctor says I'm doing the right thing (in theory, not necessarily in practice as he hasn't yet seen my technique).
The result of last night's little bits of theatre was that Vanessa and I only got between four and five hours sleep - hardly ideal preparation to celebrate all things Paddy. But, you know, we're nothing if not troopers so we'll still give it a go later on.
Following Jamie's and my final grapple of the day at around 7pm which will hopefully send him off to sleep, it'll be Guinness (to be sure), mussels, Gaelic steaks (i.e. steak covered with Bushmills whiskey - pretty subtle, eh?) and chocolate things with Bailey's in them. Oh, and that special episode of The Simpsons I mentioned last night.
Alternatively, Jamie might decide not to sleep and we'll have to improvise.
We got him his own a special hat - just in case.
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