But perhaps Cousin Rufus was not unique in feeling nauseous toward me. Chances are he felt nauseous at the best of times, being as he was unable to eat most things; butter and milk were definitely out; his Doctor also hazarded that he was gluten intolerant, which eliminated bread and pasta. Then just when I believed that I had found some foodstuffs that would sustain him it came out he was a vegetarian, though I suspect that that really masked a rather tiresome eating disorder. Rufus was incredibly cheerful when upright and sober, but really liked a drop, in which case how quickly he became prostrate and grieving; then the incredible sadness and senselessness that overcame him was so utterly at odds with the golden upright version of himself. That said, Rufus was not the original prototype of the nice boy who is almost mad when drinking, and whose drinking drives him mad over time.