Thought that yesterday's rain had somehow ramped up the mould allergies; think it more likely that getting soaked in yesterday's rain (jacket still wet this morning) has given me a cold, along with half the world at work. Explains the long hours of delicious sleep last night that I hated to wake from, when I'd thought that was due to allergy meds and the delights of wool and flannel and feathers and hot beanbags and fluffy pillows and all those lovely sleeping in autumn/ winter things.
Shall have hot bubble epsom salt bath and do it all over again tonight.
(I continue to read Rutledges, more or less happily and not from any completist sentiments. Took me a good six volumes before one of his/her/their ticks began to get to me: 'Opening the letter, Rutledge read the sloping handwriting', 'Putting on his coat, he slipped out the door', 'Reaching into the boot of the car, he brought out a shovel and torch.' I do that myself, I know, but it's still wrong.)