In order to calm Wilson, I have persuaded him that what I'm suffering from is not after all The Black Death, but merely Man Flu.
He was reassured, but is now telling me that I'm a Big Baby and Making A Fuss Over Nothing.
He says I want to try being an anteater – they can't just rush round to the Pharmacy when they feel a bit off-colour; they just have to Get On With Life, as they've been doing for millions of years!
This is a bit ironic, as Wilson is constantly round at the Pharmacy asking for reassurance over some real or imagined ailment.
However, he did advise me to keep taking The Bees' Nasty Medicine, as they probably know best and if it tastes nasty enough it just might do me some good.
Also, he's cancelled my Funeral Plan – he said it was way too expensive for someone who, as he put it, 'could still live for months'…
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