Fucking stomach bug caught up with me again after visiting Dennis in Randers. Think it was only dormant, and all that heavy drinking got the better of me and so, despite not suffering from hangover, I suffered ever more so in the shits. Sat on the toilet all through the day and night, trembling with stomach cramps, those kinds which finds you wanting to rather die instead. Around five o’clock in the evening was graced with some sleep. This day fared better, but still feel rather uneasy about interpreting the signals from my abdomin. Coupled with the general fatique and a gray sky felt like not really wanting to get up in the morning. Dad still can’t seem to find himself when I’m up here; he doesn’t seem at ease, scuffling about and requesting I eat some more (bad timing), or trying to make conversation. I’m not good at that; think he should’ve caught up with me earlier, here. But did take him up on his offer for a drive around the community – all I could manage with the stomach at my availability. I’m guessing I miss my wife and kids, so being sat on the shitter makes for a double-whammy. Good to talk with her in the evening, V, reporting of how Nicolas has apparently now learned to use the putty for his endeavors. They’re having a great time visiting her folks, which is cool. Oh, and good being out with Dennis and Mads; was a good decision to have Mads join us, I can see now. Will maybe do that next year – if there is a next year. I’m getting to feel uncomfortable in being out on the town like this. A thirty-eight year old father of two in a disco, drukenly chatting up girls twenty fucking years younger? I’m not sure I have it in me anymore.
In the evening went with Dad to the Fotorama in Viborg, and saw the latest Bond movie. Think he’s forgotten I told him I’d seen it before, so played along with it. It was good, I mean, shitty movie but good to do something on neutral ground. Maybe that’s something to consider, next time I’m up here. Doesn’t have to be Bond-movies.