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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson


As that song goes, it's been a while.

I've spent the last week and a bit flat on my back staring at the ceiling, and not in any kind of a fun way (so all you people with those kind of minds can scurry off back to the pornography pages you've just accidentally surfed away from). That quick fall down the stairs that I enjoyed a short while ago had more planned for me than I had originally thought. Last week, my back decided to collapse, and it's quite difficult to do much of anything when your back doesn't want you to.

But the happy happy joyous news is that the good doctors here in Ireland decreed that I could achieve one of my life's ambitions, and have prescribed me some Valium for the pain and agony. Hoorah. I am a bored housewife of the early 1980s. It's been fun. It even makes watching re runs of Moonlighting seem amusing.

In the last week, when I've not done much more than cry and lie staring at the ceiling, I've done a lot of thinking about all the crap that's gone on in the last year - some of you may know, some of you may spend your lives wondering what I'm on about - and I've come to some very solid conclusions that I am determined to act upon. Hoorah. I type this as a reminder to myself so that when I'm reading back on this feeling aimless and listless one day I'll remember my determination, standing here in the kitchen typing with an aching pain in my back and listening to Jon Holmes screaming on Virgin Radio.

I'm back to work on Monday, having missed a week and forgotten to post my rent cheque. Oops. I'm sure it will all work out in the end.

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