I love the phrase “food poisoning”. It’s perfect, conveying the drama so succinctly: how the food you love betrayed you, luring you into a false sense of security. You see it, sitting there innocently on the grill alongside its harmless friends, the veggie skewers. “These?” the burger says, alluding to its seductive chargrilled lines. “Why, they’re all yours, of course.” A poisoning, a fatal trick. Shakespearean, really.

Sorry: that’s just the food-poisoning fever talking. You think weird things when you’ve been trapped, as I have, on what feels like the longest trip on Earth following a rogue BBQ burger. This is the first time in years I’ve been sick – properly sick, the kind where you can’t sit up because the room is spinning and even daytime TV is too complicated to follow (“But how can Phoebe afford her New York apartment as a masseuse?”). Instead you lie drooling, stuck in an out-of-body experience, where the mundane furniture of your bedroom becomes a kaleidoscope and Bargain Hunt is a sermon from God. Some people go to the desert and take ayahuasca, finding their true self in visions of the divine mother. Me, I just need a dodgy bap and David Dickinson on repeat.

And now here I am, world; new, improved and reborn. What have I learned? Self-reliance. How? By discovering first-hand that when you’re a real adult, no one cares if you’re ill. If anything, it’s worthy of rebuke. You can’t be ill when you have responsibilities, it’s simply not allowed.

Compare and contrast the sickness episodes of childhood and adulthood. Back then, loved ones would gather round to provide medically inadvisable sugary treats, stroke your hair and tell you everything will be OK. The worst you had to worry about was maybe having to see the icky, scary doctor. Unlike here in Grownup Land, where sickness is met with sighs and every conversation is marred by not-so-subtle shades of guilt. Not that there are many conversations at all, unless you count the ones with your doctor (who is in fact a robot on an app).

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Which, actually, is fine by me. I have travelled to a higher dimension and found the truth: do not look to others to give you what you need. Look within… your laptop case, because there’s the internet for that. Need a treat? There’s Deliveroo. Want some meds? Try Amazon Prime. Looking for someone to tell you it will be OK and to distract you from overwhelming thoughts about mortality? I’m sure, if you ask, Alexa can help you out there. To think, so many spend their lifetime savings on a shaman! Suckers.