Dear Friend,

I'm writing this from home, struck down with one of those colds that make you hot, cold, shiver and sweat all at the same time.

One minute I'm like a demented rag doll on a pogo stick, the next I'm doing a passable impersonation of a tree trunk.

A strange sort of cotton wool seems to have found its way through my ears and is clogging up my brain. Even my thoughts don't seem to be able to get through. The keys on my keyboard seem strange to my touch as I write - it's like someone else is writing this.

I'm one of those people who likes to think that they are 'never' ill, so it's frustrating.

It's certainly not fatal, but I also know that if I don't get some proper rest it's just not going to go away

Happy New Year indeed.

PS. Looks like the market's looking a trifle queasy too.