By the time I struggled out of bed this morning, the Dreaded Lurgy had taken hold.

I’ve been blowing my nose every few minutes, coughing, and feeling as if I’ve been hit over the head with the Oxford English Dictionary. (I’ve just finished reading Simon Winchester’s excellent The Surgeon of Crowthorne, about the origins of that august and weighty lexicon.)

As well as the shirtload of supplements I feed daily to my inner hypochondriac, I also took a triple-strength garlic and horseradish tablet after breakfast in an effort to head off the lurgy at the pass. But onward it gallops, gathering reinforcements as the day progresses.

Really, there are only four things that are going to get me through this: lemon juice, honey, a good book and rest (and maybe a DVD for when I don’t have the strength to read, with perhaps a chocolate or two – dark, of course, for the antioxidant value –  to keep the spirits up.)

During the gold rush in California (1848-1856), lemons sold for $1 each – exorbitant in those days. With very little fresh produce available, widespread scurvy afflicted the miners and lemons were known to cure it.

Not that they knew, in those days, that lemons were a rich source of Vitamin C; that discovery came in the 1930s.

Citric acid is the speediest way of changing the body’s acidity to alkalinity… and that’s a good thing. Lemon juice taken in weak black tea is said to cure a hangover and to alleviate headaches and migraines. And because lemons contain phosphorous, their juice in water with a little honey, taken two to three times a day, is said to cure bad breath.

Lemon juice, drunk first thing in the morning in warm water, is also purported to help reduce weight. The only proof I have of that, though, is our friend Kirsty. She drinks a squeeze of lemon juice in hot water every morning and she’s as slim as a reed.

Just the scent of a lemon is believed to lift the spirits. A wedge in a cup of Darjeeling tea on a hot day is one of our favourite Summer drinks: surprisingly cooling and at the same time uplifting. Little wonder, then, that the lemon’s outer skin is called ‘zest’.

Assembled in a basket, lemons look beautiful and will keep at room temperature for about two weeks. If you’re not planning to use them any time soon, store them in a plastic bag in the crisper section of the fridge where they’ll keep for up to six weeks.

If you’ve harvested a bumper crop for which you have no immediate use, juice them into an ice-cube tray, allow them to freeze and then transfer the lemon ice cubes into a plastic bag. Leave them in the freezer until you need them.

As far as growing your own lemon tree is concerned, there’s a wealth of good information on that on the Sustainable Gardeners Australia website.

I think that’s all I can tell you about lemons for the time being. Now I think I’ll take to my sick-bed with a hot lemon and honey drink and Collected Stories by the brilliant and aptly-named Janette Turner Hospital.