Today was grisly, hail, rain, thunder and professional horrors (including a full day ordeal by DOUBLE SURPRISE POWERPOINT), faintly horrified to discover Hadley Freeman is only 36, when she has achieved so much. I always assumed she must be my age. This was also another day of Out, my ninth in a row, of which 7 involved 'talking to groups of strangers' (with a special mention for last Friday when I also left my phone in a taxi, adieu phone), I am no longer fit for that much time with so many people and my neck has seized up with tension and shit posture, like a badly taxidermied weasel. Quite frankly tonight, I got nuffink. Ah well. Perhaps some greater truth will emerge eventually? Some as yet indiscernible pattern? Hmm.
Also, let us share a thought for my father who texted disconsolately that he was "on an 11 hour guided tour of the Cartoon Museum without wine".
Clawing it back from the edge tonight:
- Dead Sea Salt bath (I just dumped the whole sachet in there, fuckit).
- The fact that we now have a functioning bath, albeit with brown water.
- Half an hour of Molesworth.
- Herbal tea (what the fuck. I have started drinking herbal tea again after a good ten years abstinence, I sort of hate myself. Not fruit teas though, there are limits).
- A KitKat (crap Belgian version, but needs must).
- Looking at fantasy elephant camp brochures.
- Sliding a gnarled crone hoof under the warm silky flank of the stupid dog who has exhausted himself fretting about thunder.
- This fantastically horrible, fascinating film about the worst prison in Russia.
- Possibly a hot water bottle.
What is your emergency head repair kit for shitweasel days? Obviously we can discount alcohol, which is taken as read.
This is my eldest son's solution to everything, see also here and here and here and here. I'm going to get him to do me a special one for my birthday.