Captain Midnight here reporting from a plague-infested Folly Cottage.

Himself has been in self-imposed quarantine for the past week. He’s got some sort of bug which may or may not be a common cold. I understand from overheard telephone conversations with anyone who will listen, that few men (and probably no women) have ever suffered such grave symptoms.

Headaches have been mentioned; a sore throat; chesty cough; aching joints; blocked sinuses; and general exhaustion. You’ll notice that loss of appetite doesn’t appear in the list. Feed a cold, starve a fever, he told me last night, shovelling spareribs and roast vegetables down his neck.

He’s quaffing Lemsip and Linctus like they’re going out of fashion, snorting Olbas Oil and slathering his body with Vicks. I’m not sure what all this is supposed to achieve apart from making him smell worse than he already does. So, I’m trying to do my job of companion-in-chief whilst staying upwind… he doesn’t make things easy for me, does he?

I’ve explained that a stiff run across the fields would do us both good. He agreed in principle but still lolls around in bed all day apart from a couple of short walks up the road and back. I wonder if he’s as bored as I am?

He’s still coughing and spluttering, so I fear we’re not out of the woods yet.

I shall stand by my man, of course.

But what a Wimp!

But only to go for a walk. He’ll be back soon!

Captain Midnight here with news of the far-flung traveller.

This is Elvis, my Middle-Eastern cousin, the latest addition to the extended family. Himself is in Dubai at the moment with his daughters, and their new pet, disporting himself under the winter sun while I’m stuck in Blighty, albeit with the lovely, roast chicken providing, Jan and Dave (whom Allah preserve).

Despite being an English Bulldog, Elvis was born in Dubai. Technically, he can formally apply to become an Emirati citizen in 30 years time. Sadly dogs are decreed to be haram in the Koran and therefore considered anti-Islamic, so I don’t fancy his chances.

Personally – and please don’t pass this on to Himself, who seems to be entranced by the heavy jowls and undershot jaw ­– my concern is more fundamental. Elvis is (dare I say it) a cat lover. Don’t take my word for it… I have photographic proof.

Nuff said?