Blue is the colour

I am feeling a little under the weather today and so is she. For a start, she refused to get out of bed until nearly lunchtime. I crept upstairs to have a look in, and she was lying on her back staring at the ceiling. I panicked - if she was dead, who was going to dish up my dinner?

Oh, she said, what do you want FatBoy? I shrugged my shoulders. I can't be bothered to get up, she explained. I am going to lie in bed until I die. My mummified body will be found on Pancake Day. Or what remains of it. You will probably have gnawed off my digits by then and my hair will be crusted with your drool. You'll get a good few meals out of my nose. Try to remember the good times, old boy.

So, I tried to remember the good times. I went downstairs again and left her to it. Some time later I heard the stairs creak and she loomed into view - a dreadful and awesome sight. I was a bit thirsty so I decided to have a cup of tea before I die, she said.

I'll have the salmon, I said.