“Playing dirty water from a swordfish trombone…”

I was left a little parting gift by the baby girl whom I had found sprawled on the sofa, not a “thank you for having me” present, more of a “got you, sucker”. And she certainly did get me. Less than a day after I had got back for the weekend, I was sitting on the floor muttering that I felt strangely queasy.

“Oh, that’ll be the bug”, said my little petal. “Don’t worry, you’ll have the runs for a couple of days and then you’ll be fine”.

“And if I don’t want the runs for a couple of days?”

“Just learn to love them, you’ll be fine”.

According to her, the runs lasted for about two days, accompanied by stomach cramps, and endless gurgling noises, followed by a vague lassitude. She and her granddaughter had both suffered together, and had even gone to paint eldest daughter’s kitchen in the tail end of the illness. Youngest daughter’s partner, however, having dropped the biological weapon on our doorstep and run off gleefully to his training course, had ended up in hospital within a day.

“Why?” I asked, alarmed.

“He was throwing up as well, simultaneously. It worried them”.

“Yes, I could see the course instructor not welcoming the interruption”.

And so, preconditioned by her casual announcement that my world was going to turn inside out, I struggled on for half a day convincing myself that I was far too tough to be laid low by a babies’ bug, before collapsing in a very messy heap. My sphincter was singing strange tunes, and I was no longer conducting the orchestra.

From out of the delirium I have one very remarkable memory. Waking from the fitful doze, seeing moonlight flooding through the window, and realizing I felt peaceful. Collecting my senses, I found I was lying in the position of the hanged man, one foot cocked up with the sole resting against the knee of the other leg. My limbs, however, were icy cold, and if I hadn’t been so glad of the respite from the pains I would have been scared by their deathly numbness. Then, sometime later, when the moonlight had passed across the window to shine in on the wardrobe mirror, finding myself again in the hanged man’s repose, but with the other leg crooked, and this time my limbs were comfortably warm.

I was so amazed by the realization that, as well as the inverted meanings to the cards, there could be a pair of reflective meanings, I completely forgot to remember which side was hot and which was cold. And there is no way I intend to repeat the experience, let some other eager student out there open themselves up to the spirit of occult discovery.

The green-eyed tabby cat has slept on the pillow beside my head to make sure I don’t get molested by inquisitive shrews. There are a lot of them about at this time of the year.