Health update because I’ve nothing else meaningful to say LALALALA. 

General Nonsense

Well that was an interesting 48 hours. How to lose half a stone and burn off the lining of your throat so you sound like you’ve smoked sixty fags a day and not just the odd fagatthebackdoor without really trying. 

I did somehow summon up the energy to forage for nursery food at the Big Tesco as I was craving Potato Waffles, Tomato Soup and Baked Beans with Sausages. A Birds Eye/Heinz extravaganza. 

Target located and acquired, I returned to the safety of the house exhausted by foraging and had to lie down for an hour, flicking through Instagram like a crazy person. How did cavemen manage? It’s a mystery. Turns out I didn’t fancy the nursery food in the end. Warmed up some tomato soup, sloshed it in a bowl, staggered through to living room to eat it, realised I fancied a raw tattie scone with it so laid soup bowl on table to fetch the aforementioned T-scone. Got back to Tucker looking gormlessly at me with a tomato soup moustache beside an empty bowl of tomato soup.  

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is probably how I ended up with this feckin’ bug in the first place – human/canine cross contamination. I did kiss him full on his grumpy snout when I got back from Paris, momentarily forgetting about his predilection for eating all manner of shit – both literally and figuratively.

I have managed to bingewatch the last two Game of Thrones eps, and collected my  fifty quid winnings on a Scratchcard, so every shitty cloud has a silver lining. 

Not so good on the old Fitbit stats today – my steps count is at about twenty and don’t even ask about my sleep report. (You weren’t going to? Oh. Okay. I thought you might even feign some interest but whatever). 

I’ve had a run of good fortune on the clothes front since returning from Paris. Tesco! I know! Good old Florence and Fred! (Is it still called that? I fear I’ve barfed up some brain cells as well as the lining of my throat) I’ve gone jumpsuit-tastic but they’re so COMFY until you need a widdle then they’re Satan’s own garments, sleeves dropping down the toilet without so much as a by your leave.

I was a bit febrile and tetchy yesterday. A bit rabbit in the headlightsy. Understandable, given my health, but sometimes you just wonder where people get off, non? Jesus, mind your own business already and never give an unsolicited opinion because it’s rarely welcome. I thank you. Now go about your business while I wallow in some self loathing and stare mournfully at my cankles. 

Exeunt stage left.


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