I went into town this morning to pick up my sick note from the doctor's surgery. Is it still called a sick note? I think now it's a "Well, ok, you can stay off work, but wrap up warm and come back and see me in a few days, and if you're skiving I'll tell on you," note.
Anyway. I went and collected it, then went to the weigh-in at Fat Club. Stayed the same as I was last week, which I was actually pleased about as it's been a weird few weeks and my eating habits have been out of whack. The antibiotics meant I was feeling even worse than the chest infection was making me, and my appetite had gone, so I was eating for the sake of it, rather than because I wanted to. What with the stress of poor old Father-in-law WithaY being in hospital, and Mr WithaY and I not being allowed to go and see him with our colds/coughs, it was all a bit much. So I shovelled down far more bread and honey than I am supposed to. Comfort eating. It works in the short term, but then you get depressed because you're a fat bastard. Gah.
Encouraging developments, though. Father-in-law is out of hospital and back at the nursing home, where he hasn't been tipped out of his wheelchair again. Yet. We popped in briefly last night to see him, and he looks better, still terribly frail, but more cheerful, and delighted to see us.
On the way to the weigh-in, I walked past a cafe, outside of which gathers the rank and file of local life. As I walked past, I overheard an ENORMOUS woman saying to her friend, "Worrrrl, I weren't going to not say nothing, was I? Was I? You know me..I says what I think, and if I dunt like something, I tell them, dunni? Dunni?"
Her friend nodded eagerly, clearly enjoying the retelling of whatever epic encounter this was. If I hadn't been late for my meeting I would have stopped to hear the rest.
I have a feeling that the large lady came off best in it. She looked as though it would take more than a battle of words to defeat her, and I imagine that she'd never even realise if she was taking part in a battle of wits. She had the air of someone who thinks nothing of picking up a chair and twatting the other party with it to get her point across.
Other news: Watched Avatar on DVD last night. Boy I wish I'd seen it at the cinema. I loved it. Mr WithaY loved it too, and he'd been lukewarm about watching it to begin with.
I want to go and see Iron Man 2, but the reviews haven't been great, and Slyde was less than complimentary, so maybe that can wait for DVD too.
2 comments:
Don't forget though, that Slyde is a comic-book anorak. Go see it - I haven't yet and I might not get to (the nearest cinema being 30 miles, and me not able to drive); I waited for the first one on DVD and I wish I had seen it at the cinema, dagnabbit. Oooh, the spellcheck on this recognises dagnabbit, dagnabbit! Hang on, it's recognised its first iteration but no subsequent... Pile of shite.
Hey, stop confusing my spellchecker!
And we're in the same boat really - either 25 miles to Salisbury cinema, or 25 miles to Bath cinema. Or there's the skanky little fleapit in Frome, which frankly I can do without.
I expect we'll get over to Salisbury to see it, once we both stop coughing annoyingly.
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