On Saturday morning, Aidan, one of Philip's best friends, arrived at our house and got him out of bed. After lunch, we dropped the two boys off at their friend Colm's house. I remember watching Philip as he walked off, bouncing a ball at the same time. The boys later went into town where they met up with other friends.
We had arranged to pick Philip up at 8pm in town but he telephoned at 7.30pm and asked his father to come early. Philip came in, shivering with the cold, saying he didn't feel well. This was the first indication we had that he was sick. He refused dinner but said he may have it later. On the news that night we were told of the flu epidemic, so we weren't too worried at that stage. He said he didn't have a headache and when we asked if he had a rash, he said he'd check for himself, which he did. He didn't have one. He lay on the couch and was very much part of conversation.
Around 10pm he decided to go to bed as he had started vomiting. We continued to keep a close eye on him as we were aware of meningitis. His neck was not stiff and he had no problem with the light when we switched it on to check on him. He knew himself that we were querying meningitis, but told us he'd be fine if we'd let him get a good night's sleep. I checked on Philip at 1.30am and his Dad looked in on him at 2am. He spoke to both of us.