Oh dear, is he unwell? What state is he in?” gasped the mother-in-law. “Just a bit sleepy, nothing serious—slight temperature, perfectly fine, winter’s just setting in.

**Diary Entry November 15th**

*”What do you mean hes poorly? How bad is it?”* gasped my mother-in-law. *”Just a bit under the weather. Slight temperature, nothing seriouswinters setting in.”* *”Winter? Pah! Its that job of yoursyoure bringing home all sorts from that till! How many times must I say it? Find another job!”*

Emma had been fast asleep when a loud bang startled hersomeone had flung open the front door! Rubbing her eyes, she squinted at the clockbarely 8 AM.

*”Oliver, love, is that you?”* she called, listening for movement. No answer. Just the creak of the bathroom door opening then silence.

She threw on her dressing gown and dashed barefoot down the hall. Swinging the door open, she froze.

There stood Oliver, grinning at his own reflection, tongue stuck out.

*”Emma, is it true your tongue goes white when youre ill?”* he asked.

*”Are you ill?”* she mumbled, still half-asleep.

*”Think so,”* he sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead. *”Need the thermometer. Where is it? Might lie down. They sent me home from work. Suppose we ought to call the GP.”*

She fetched it. Sure enough37.5°C. Winter had arrived, and Oliver was down with it. The GP came within the hour, signed him off work.

Emma rang her mum. *”Could you pick Alfie up from nursery? Olivers poorlycant risk the little one catching it.”*

Her mum was thrilledshe adored her grandson, living alone as she did. *”Whats wrong with Oliver? Serious?”*

*”No, just a bug. GPs given him a note, rest and fluids.”*

*”And you? Feeling alright?”*

*”Fine! Ive got the late shiftasked Margaret to check on him tonight. Shops packed evenings, wont have time to ring.”*

*”Poorly? How poorly?”* Margaret gasped when Emma called.

*”Just resting. Slight fever. Winter, isnt it?”*

*”Winter? Its that shop of yoursdragging germs home! Ive told youfind a proper job!”*

*”Margaret, Im not ill! You said yourself Oliver was sickly as a boy. Frosts come earlyhardly my fault.”*

To cut the lecture short, Emma hung up. Margaret had a habit of blowing things out of proportionno doubt shed be on the doorstep within the hour. Fine. Let her fuss. Emma had a shift to get to.

True to form, Margaret arrived armed with herbal remedies, tutting as she swapped Olivers sweat-drenched T-shirt. *”Left him in damp clothesno wonder hes worse! Didnt you notice?”*

*”He was asleep!”*

At work, Emma felt a weariness creeping in. Oh nonot her too. But she couldnt let on. Had to slog through the shift. That evening, her fever was higher than Olivers. She nearly complainedbut he was too busy studying his tongue in the mirror.

*”Still white,”* he muttered.

No, she couldnt admit she was ill. No one to moan to anywayMum would panic, Margaret would blame her, and Oliver was too wrapped up in himself.

Decision made: suffer in silence, pop paracetamol, keep working. The mortgage wouldnt pay itself.

For a week, Oliver wallowed in martyrdomeven at 37°C, he *ached*. Margaret hovered with tonics, and Emma dodged her, knowing she looked rough. Oliver noticed nothingdozing between telly and phone. By day four, her fever broke.

Oliver, meanwhile, milked itmeals in bed, constant temperature checks, drinks fetched. *”He was poorly often as a boy,”* Margaret said, though this was his first cold in five years of marriage. Exhausting.

He returned to work the next week. Alfie came home. Over tea, Oliver sighed. *”Used to shake off colds as a kid. This? Brutal. Youve no idea.”*

*”Really? Was it that bad?”*

*”Easy for you to sayyou werent the one suffering!”*

*”I was. You just didnt notice.”*

Oliver blinked, then smirked. *”Pulling my leg? Come onlets turn in.”*

Emma sighed. Hed never noticed.

Ah well.

Like the old jokea woman whos given birth might *almost* understand what a man endures at 37.5°C.

**Lesson learned:** Some battles arent worth fighting. Men, like toddlers, need coddling when poorly. And mothers-in-law? Best endured with tea and silence.