regular runs

When I got home after a quick trundle round the hill (carrying full work-bag-load and both locks appears to add forty seconds), Portobello and Granton with Joe and Instography (whose piercing rear light was doing a weird pulsing thing today) I learnt that Edgar had been lightly sick at nursery, though it looked to be more due to eating too much too quickly without chewing (and therefore not yet being a cause for exclusion) than the waft of winter-vomiting-style sickness decimating attendance. I was therefore slightly expecting it when I had to quickly leave the half-washed dishes an hour later to run to the bathroom. At least it hadn't happened out on the bike somewhere, as I can recall from February how unpleasant it was just trying to get home from work without puking when struck by a similar viral unpleasance. Fortunately I'd chewed everything I'd recently eaten quite well, though it still took until three in the morning before my inner components considered themselves suitably empty.