So Anne and I are in bed with the Klingon Death Flu. Jen (10) is in a similar state but has managed to drag herself downstairs and switch the TV on. Rik (6), who has the constitution of a Feral Mutant and is untouched by any lergi, is watching with her.

"Rik," Jen says, "am I running a temperature?"

Rik puts a hand on her forehead, grunts, and goes out of the room. He returns a minute later with a slice of bread, which he carefully places on Jens' forehead.

"What are you bloody doing?" Jen wants to know.

"Well," Rik replies in his most reasonable tones, "I fancy a bit of toast but I can't reach the toaster. But you're just about hot enough..."

"MUUUUM! He's putting bread on my head!"