Longtime readers will know I sometimes take little breaks from this whole shebang. I once tried to make a portmanteau of “blogging” and “holiday” and came up with “bloliday” which is quite possibly the worst word in the history of the universe.
Anyway, writing furiously and then taking my foot clean off the gas for a while is just what I do. This little mini break is a LOT shorter than the last which lasted a couple of years so you should all feel incredibly grateful. Feel free to kiss my feet.
But where have I been?
Well I’ve been being sick. A lot.
It’s not a new thing and it’s terribly boring and if you’ve ever been out for a meal with me over the past ooh… four years (?) then I’m afraid to tell you I’ve been sick after it.
As I said to my surgeon yesterday I have been sick in some fancy, and some weird, places.
Royal Ascot – ✔️
Henley Regatta – ✔️
The Royal Suite of a posh hotel – ✔️
Into my own handbag – ✔️
All over myself whilst doing 60mph in my car – ✔️
Into a fruitbowl during the speeches at the wedding of some dear friends – ✔️
The list goes on. And on. And Ariston.
It’s bloody boring and if I’d saved the money I’d spent on lovely meals out only to then horf it back up again I’d have my own private island right about now.
So I finally got off my slack arse and contacted my wonderful surgeon, Mr S. I saw him yesterday and we came up with a plan. Sadly it involves yet more surgery but if it means I can start living normally again then I am here for that shit.
In a twist of ‘isn’t the NHS simply brilliant’ fate my wonderfully talented brilliant bastard of a friend Adam has written a book about his six years hard labour at the coalface of it. You can buy it here and you really should. I read it in one emotional rollercoaster of a sitting, I laughed, I cried, I laughed while crying, and the ending gave me goosebumps and I had to have a little quiet sit to let it sink in.
God bless the NHS.