I fear you'll have to do without me for the next two weeks – the time has come, I am about to have my first week off of the year, also known as 'the week I'll be ill'.
Every year I fail to realise the correlation between feeling like my head is about to explode with the fact that I've forgotten to take any holiday.
With this in mind, I shall be spending several days in a darkened room in a news blackout where no one is even allowed to tell me if there's been a particularly juicy court case or a sighting of the Norfolk puma.
I might even 'go dark' on Twitter (this is unlikely). I might read one of the dozens of books that stare at me accusingly every time I pass the teetering pile I've amassed and never read.
On the other hand, I might just be ill. There's no point trying to fight it. Please send magazines, grapes and sympathy.
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