So,
I expect you’ve been wondering where I’ve been for the past few months? Oh I see, you’ve been watching ‘I’m a
Celebrity’ instead of checking to see if I’ve updated any new posts. Well, never mind because now I’ve got Mondays
off, there’ll be a whole lotta blogging going on. (Spare us!)
I
finally managed to ditch the troublesome gallbladder and spent a month
‘convalescing’ under the watchful eyes of Nurses Kitty and Catty. I’m sure they did more resting than I did!
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| NHS cat nurses recommended to aid recovery after surgery |
Thanks
to the soup and cream cracker diet, I lost a few pounds too but with Christmas
on the fatty horizon, I’ve got a lot of lost meals to make up and no doubt the
scales will soon be tipping the other way.
When
you’ve got time on your hands and nothing else to do all day, you spend more
hours in self-examination than ever. I
contemplated my navel most days and that was purely to check on the stitches
from keyhole surgery. Healed yet? Nope, check again tomorrow. I did
this for about 25 days before finally getting bored and moving on to obsessing
over signs of ageing.
Have
you noticed how pouty, pink lips suddenly become the thin red line of
displeasure almost overnight? Mine get
slathered in plump action lip balms on a daily basis but there’s more substance
in a plastic bag for life than in this ‘kisser’. It’s truly depressing.
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| I've spent thousands on lip plumping balms! |
Almost
as depressing as this novel I’m reading called ‘A Christmas Debacle’ by Charlie
Wat-the-Dickens. It’s the bleak tale of
a middle aged chimney sweep who finds his livelihood has been stolen by migrant
children who can climb up chimneys quicker and for fewer pennies.
On
his way to the workhouse, the chimney sweep encounters three terrifying
spectres: the Ghost of Christmas Past (a
ghoul stuck in the 1970s that wants to bring chimneys under state control), the
Ghost of Christmas Present (only there’s no present, cos it’s a phantom Tory)
and the Ghost of Christmas Future (a larger than life phantasm who is propping
up the bar with a pint in one hand and a ciggie in the other).
These
three ghosts then proceed to spend half the novel trying to befuddle the poor
chimney sweep with conflicting Christmas policies and half-baked mince
pies. In the end driven to desperation
and trapped in his hovel by a large pile of election decrees blocking the front
door, the chimney sweep dies in tragic circumstances when a small, ugly green
dragon accidently sets fire to a lump of straw instead of the Christmas
pudding.
Ah, they don’t write classics like that anymore.
The sequel is due for release after 12 December.
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| Warning - contains distressing scenes and child poverty |
