Friday, 6 July 2007

Still grumpy.

Still suffering with a knackered back. It's one of the consequences of being too tall (6 inches above average for the British female) and a fat bastard to boot.

I think it's also a consequence of too many hours on a very uncomfortable bus last week, and 8 hours in the car last weekend to and from London. And the trip into town on the train on Wednesday didn't help a lot, either.

Whatever the cause, it's bloody painful and very annoying. I hate that feeling when the painkillers have almost worn off but it's to soon to take the next lot. I am alternating between lying on the floor complaining, walking round the house complaining and sitting at my PC, not complaining till I try to stand up, when I go "Ouch, fuck it" a lot.

It's been a crap week workwise, one way and another. Still, I have most of next week booked as holiday because Mr WithaY's Mum is visiting from France for a bit (she's not French though, so she is allowed in the house).

Going into town tomorrow to get a much needed haircut, and to have a confidential chat with my hairdresser about my encroaching greyness. Mr WithaY and I may also take a jaunt to the pictures, depending on what's on. I love going to see films on the big screen.

Also need to get some gardening done - there is a "Sleeping Beauty" stylee bramble encroachment going on at the side of the house that is threatening to take over completely. Trouble is, it's been so wet and miserable that I have had no inclination to get out there with my secateurs and trug and get on with it. Yes, I have a trug. Doesn't everyone?

I took up badgerdaddy's suggestion and opened up a Photobucket account, and am planning on trying to post some pictures on here before too much longer. They won't be very exciting, but there will be cake. And that's a promise.

Oh yeah, was listeining (under sufferance) to the local shit radio station this morning. The shrill female sidekick was wittering on about the fact that she was going to be performing at a local festival with Nick Harper. And she had no fucking idea who he is. Gah.

I saw him a few years ago at Salisbury Arts Centre (a fab local venue for a wide variety of bands) and he was excellent. Far better than his mad old dad Roy, in fact, who he was supporting.

Anyway, this dippy bint was saying "Ooh, I Googled him this morning! He's quite famous!"

Yes, far more so than you are ever likely to be I imagine. Now fuck off and read the weather report. Badly. Like you usually do.


rivergirlie said...

is that real cake or pictures of cake?
isn't roy harper a bit bonkers now? i remember him from olden days.
is your head connected to your back? (no i don't mean like the kneebone and the thigh bone - i mean causally)

livesbythewoods said...

Pictures of cake. I have already eaten all the real stuff. Sozz.

Roy Harper - off his head but still interesting and worth a listen to.

And yes, the headache was most likely stress-induced. The back is reacting by crippling me, making my legs go wobbly and not letting me sleep. It's happened before, usually at high-stress points in my life (eg doing my finals) which is very helpful).

I thought it was getting better but today has been bloody horrible so far with it.

Caro said...

You do sound like your back hurts. I'm sorry that it hurts but enjoyed the snarkiness at the end there.