I have a headache, so forgive and forget if I can't be arsed.
Last night was weird. Nausea and Doctor Who/work mish-mash half-asleep dreams. David Tennant and poo. When I was awake, I tried very hard not to think about butter, because for some reason, that was the key to me not being sick. Now, like I said, I have a headache. In fact, my neck and shoulders are playing along to the same tune, I've just noticed. We shall just un-notice that.
Today, firstly, my Mum 'phoned at about half nine. That woke me up. Then Lindsay sent me a message shortly after, wanting to meet up. I took the dog with me, after dressing like some sort of old woman/old man/child combination; the Pokemon Trainer T-shirt I bought years ago and stitched to fit, my new black lace up granny shoes, brown striped Hobbs skirt (charity shop - I think Hobbs might be posh), a flat cap from a men's department somewhere. When I feel rubbish, assembling silly outfits that somehow manage to look pretty good makes me feel better. I had orange tights on last week to make myself feel better about my kidneys hurting and having to get up early for work.
So, I left with Fizz, and walked to the park. Fizz put her mush on every bit of fruit outside the grocer's, despite not liking fruit. I saw Lindsay, not so fresh back from New Zealand, and Craig, who hasn't been away, so was sweet (and fresh) enough to take Fizz for a wander while we sat on a bench and chatted. Long flight. I wish I could've seen a bit more of her. But, I did get a manuka honey lip balm from her, as well as something shared with Richard that I haven't opened yet, and The Sweet Potato Of Friendship in jade form. It's around my neck. We don't know why the sweet potato is a symbol of friendship, or how the sweet potato resembles this green swirl on a string, but it is and it's supposed to, so we're going with it. I'm leaving it on. It's on a massive cord so it won't shorten to a high position, but I won't fuck with the Maori magic of New Zealand. It can stay there.
As for the ginger, I got in and decided that porridge was in order. I doused it in powdered ginger, put some sugar on it, and a bit of butter, the application of which left me feeling a bit like I did watching Richard cut up raw pig's heart last night. I lived through it, though. In fact, my stomach is much happier. I just need to load up on some more pain relief and perhaps drink a bit. I'll be right just in time for my seven day stretch at work, starting tomorrow. Lovely. But David Tennant won't be there, I don't think. Well, it's hard to tell sometimes.