SO, we are in the 'sick season' now and I hope that you are taking precautions.

Guzzling vitamins, drinking water, washing your hands and getting fresh air.

After all, we are in the 'Embers of the year - the Novembers, the Octobers and the Decembers.

Sickness falls into three distinct categories at this time of year - especially if you have young children.

You're either ill just before Christmas, you're ill over Christmas or you're ill just after Christmas.

We are mere pawns in a cruel game of Norovirus Chess.

The three-year-old was explosively sick this week - firing chunks at Daddy's pyjamas at half past two on Monday morning.

We got the bed changed, got her settled down, got back to bed and then she was sick again. (And again in ours).

Last week, the eldest was in casualty last week with crippling stomach cramps.

Our first thought was 'burst appendix'. The official diagnosis? Tummy bug.

Jail us for wasting precious NHS resources.

More seriously, poor Grandad has learned he will spend Christmas in hospital in Carlisle after a big stroke.

So forget your so-called problems - be thankful for every moment of good health.

At this time of year, the body starts running low on battery.

Last Sunday, I made the famous flu-busting Butcher broth just like dear old Mammy used too.

It's a soup for poor people, essentially. Big ham shank, lentils, onions, garlic, pepper and a couple of stock cubes - cover it with boiling water and cook on a low heat for as long as you can - four/five hours ideally.

Half way through, dice up some potatoes and chuck them in - making sure they dissolve to mush.

This dish is a staple of Vegetable November.

Several winters back - when the children had a spate of vomiting like the girl from the exorcist - we introduced 'Vegetable November.'

Vegetable November means to front-load meal-times with extra veg (or fruit).

Because if you think you can waltz through November eating rubbish and then load up during Christmas, you've another thing coming.

The other secret to surviving a Cumbrian winter is to learn to like this time of year.

The coloured leaves or the frost on the hedgerows. We went for a walk on Scout Scar last week. Mist and drizzle over the far fells, weak light in the farmhouse windows and big fat rooks bouncing along the cliff edges, squawking fiendishly at the advancing dusk.

Somewhere in the Lyth Valley, the woods rang out with the nervous squawk of pheasants. Fearful of the Christmas pot?

Later at the local, the landlord shoved a load of logs onto the fire. Then it was back home for hot baths and Wuthering Heights. Remember the first rule of a Cumbrian winter - get outside if it's not raining.

Defy them even if they say it's going to rain. The second rule is take your coat off when you come in.

Otherwise, you just don't 'feel the benefit' when you go outside.