I have been rushing around like a long dog. I don’t know what that phrase actually means but my dad used it and I like it. When I googled it the nearest thing that came up was ‘rushing around like a fart in a colander’. I like that too.
On Friday evening I had dinner with sisters no 1 and 2 where the other-half valiantly tried to kill himself by over-eating.
|Sorry, couldn't work out how to get a photo with both the church and river in|
Intriguingly there was a plaque on the church gate saying ‘Most motivated village 1991’. I wonder how that was judged. It was a shame there wasn’t another plaque below the first saying ‘Yeah, that was 20 years ago and since then we just couldn’t be arsed’.
On Sunday evening we headed into the big city, Church Stretton, to celebrate M’s (otherwise know as our sophisticated chum) Big Birthday. A great time was had by all (even though I’m a wimp and the strength of the curry I ordered brought a tear to my eye). By the end of the evening I was very sleepy and looking forward to my bed. Unfortunately we had a white-knuckle taxi journey home. The idiot driver drove round the narrow lanes like a man possessed. By the time we got home the adrenaline was coursing round my body as fast as the idiot had been driving and I was wide awake. Thank goodness for sleeping tablets.
The following morning we were off for a special breakfast to celebrate J’s birthday. Posh sausages all round. Little N, age two and a half, tried my wig on. He looked a lot better in it than me.
Being a social butterfly is hard work you know, so I’ve spent today lazing around. On Thursday I have my fourth lot of swamp juice (chemo) so I’ll probably be confined to barracks again for a while. It was great to be out and about and feeling almost normal again.
In other news I have something revolting to report. I’ve written previously about the cat’s habit of wobbling around on the side of the bath while I’m trying to have a relaxing soak. Well he’s now taken to drinking my bath water. Oh yum. I think he needs therapy.