The week.

Another Saturday night in… though now they’re not so common ( and tbh I needed one ). This time though, they’re all out, except for me. It’s 11.30 and there’s no one here. The girls are old enough to be on sleepovers, or in Lily s case to be out actually making money for herself, babysitting ( for ) our former neighbours – Hi Fiona, if you’re reading.

I’ve bloody excelled myself by actually wrapping up a lot of presents that I had actually bought myself.  That’s no small feat, and I’m quite proud of my achievements.

There is no tree ( as yet ) to put em under, but I put them in the place which will be under the tree, once the tree is there… that’s forward thinking for you .

I put on a playlist that I’d done the other night for a dinner party music quiz – it s not necessarily representative of my own musical taste, and I was thinking that if someone had come in and seen me gift wrapping to Shania Twain and Status Quo, they’d have wondered what the f*** had happened to me as I’d lain in that coma.

The definite highlight of this week was seeing Placebo play in Wembley ( cheers Billy for the tickets – finally after 7 years… ). They were pretty big a while back, but obviously have a dedicated fan base, as there must have been 20,000 people there, and most of them were going crazy by the end..  If a loud band on a massive stage, with great lights and sound can’t whip their audience into a frenzy,  then they’re doomed..

Pia and I had a right laugh, her saying ‘ excuse me’ possibly a thousand times as we made our way to our bit through the crowds.  The wheelie section is quite close to the front, so we were pretty chuffed with that.

Also I’ve been pushed round High Street Ken, by Jo,  caught lots of buses, been out with Catherine, met Anna ( after thinking she was an imaginary figure  in the life of Miles Watson ), had too many drinks on too many nights, been crammed into wheelchair taxis, caught a black cab that was DEFINITELY not being driven by the licensed driver ( and I refused to pay the full fare, as he kept going the wrong way ) but stopped short of reporting him to the cops – I should have done, as he wouldn’t have been insured to drive that car.

If you get picked up by a Somalian guy in a black cab, who can’t really speak English, and whose only ‘ Knowledge ‘ will be of downtown Mogadishu…. then that’s him, and don’t get in.

My stomach continues to swell up and then flatten again, with no obvious cause, and I’m learning to sort of reluctantly accept it… I definitely seem to retain large quantities of water, which exits my body via my catheter at night – ah it’s an odd life I lead…

Tomorrow is the Pantomime in the Lyric in Hammersmiff. It’s ‘ all edgy’ in its delivery – last year  Cinderella was a short ‘ well built ‘ black girl, who rapped her way through the fairytale in a crop top and Converse .

The girls love it, and it’s a refreshing alternative to watching Christopher Biggins ham it up in the posh  ( but very good ) Richmond  theatre, and the tickets, the  drinks and the sweets are a lot cheaper.

I continue to get fairly regular changes of Carers – there can’t be many people left in London who’ve not helped to wash my nuts  ? by now .

Thanks to PegLeg Watson, and Debs for their fun night, last night – it was great to see a few old mates and especially to see Dorothy looking so well.

Everyone keeps saying how well I look. Does that mean I look chubby?

Lets face it though, I should look better than I did a couple of months ago, after the physical beatings my body has taken, being sliced from neck to arse hole every other weekend..

So it’s all relative.

 

 

See below for evidence of my wrapping ‘ skills’ ?

If the bloody cat gets at those presents, he’s had it.

2 thoughts on “The week.

  1. I also wonder when people say I look well… does that mean I looked really bad before?! Or is it a polite way of saying they want to shag me?!!

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