While visions of Popsicles danced in their heads

On the fourth day of Christmas Vancouver gave to me:

One urine sample
Two x-rays
Three pills to swallow
And some vomit on the pharmacy

Yes, Christmas abroad has reached a new high – I puked on the side of a pharmacy shortly after being given a big nasty pill (muscles, homemade tattoos, switchblade) without being told that it needs to be taken on a full stomach. I guess Popsicles, Benadryl and fruit juice doesn’t constitute food.

Bruce is sick too now and, not one to miss out on the fun, my mother has also come down with a cold. It looks as though Christmas is cancelled for the Films clan, most of us drifting uncomfortably in our own private haze of infirmity.

If we can get better quickly, we may just have enough time to see Vancouver (or the inside of somewhere non-medical at least).

I’m not even sure who I feel worse for right now.