Not well. Nothing alarming, just one of those horrid low-grade viruses which make you feel as if you have been kicked all over by a cross Shetland pony.
I leave you with my favourite picture of the red mare, which is the only thing currently capable of cheering me up. (And the thought of my kind friend who will look after her whilst I moan and groan in my bed.) Also very comforting are the concerned, liquid eyes of Stanley the Dog. Although I suspect these are not really saying oh poor you, but stop being such a wimp and get up and THROW MY STICK.