Gourmet cuisine for bubbly characters

... not!

The Sunday brunch today was a no brainer: a 2 litre bottle of 7-UP allowed to decanter at room temperature. To be served flat to all the Rahenies (erm... let me count... 5 in total) unable to absorb anything else

Update on yesterday's blip: the next victim was yours truly, with some rather worrying faulty boiler sounds coming from the cavernous depths of my hard-to-ignore belly at around 5 pm. I knew that burping chicken soup all afternoon was not normal. It was good home-made chicken soup, not a Big Mac (a Big Mac is 3% bun, 1% pickles and lettuce, 0.005% beef and 95.995% compressed solidified burp gas)

Pepe was already on his way from the Ireland - Argentina rugby match to babysit for Mrs Raheny and I, to allow us a very rare restaurant outing.
The trip to the restaurant was cancelled at 7 pm as I did not fancy doing a Luca-in-Jimmy-Chung performance in Alexis.

I hope that Pepe will be ok. He stayed in the house of pestilence for a total of three perilous hours.

There are no more spare clean sheets, duvets, duvet covers, pillows, pillow covers, pyjama bottoms, pyjama tops.
The place looks like a scene from the apocalypse. And smells a lot worse.

Mrs Raheny (latest victim 6.30 am today, what resilience!) is groaning softly upstairs.

I think that this is the very first time that I am looking forward to going back to work.
I've got a little something that I'd like to share with the Sick Sigma initiative on employee motivation.