What I expected and what I got

What I expected: a very sore appendage and feeling back to normal otherwise within a few days.

What I got: no pain. In fact the other one hurts a lot more. But it's like I've been hit by a steamroller. It's 10 days now since the operation and I can still only walk a few steps without a stick. My legs don't work properly and I'm exhausted to the point of tears the whole time. Or it may be the dissertation making me cry.

I am dealing with this the only way possible - by buying a whole lot of random shit on ebay that I probably won't take out of the packaging if it arrives.

Coming soon

When I'm through with health worries and the ***** dissertation:

posts on Shellac manicures, what the hell am I going to do with my life and how I beat the crap out of a woman called Claire who now crosses the road to avoid me (at a self defence class - what do you think I am?).

Strange branding decisions of our time

And if you don't pay it back on time we'll behead and disembowel you and leave the rest suspended from the nearest bridge.

blah

Now it's infected :-(

Poached eggs

There are few things more annoying to the smaller woman than having one's bosom compared to poached eggs. Nonetheless one of these along with a bit of duct tape has been remarkably handy in keeping my wound dry when showering.

Breakfast scene

I shuffled across the road this morning for breakfast, which in retrospect was too much too soon but never mind.

As I was leaving, a delightful family group of parents and two small sticky infants arrived. The cafe has a slightly utopian arrangement that allows customers to pick their own roll from a shelf before handing it over to the counter staff to be turned into a bacon roll. Mostly people do not forage extensively but pick the first roll that comes to hand. Not so with this family. The father 3 times picked up a roll, handed it to his son to fondle and reject and then replaced it on the shelf before trying another. The child then threw a roll on the floor which the father picked up and returned to the shelf, to be eaten hours later by some poor unsuspecting sod.

All of which only serves to reinforce my view that a necessary condition of having a child is house arrest for a minimum of 8 years. I mean, I completely understand that your kiddie's taste in breakfast rolls is the most important thing in the universe to you but does that have to be completely incompatible with a tiny amount of consideration for other people?

Anyhow, that's the last bacon roll I'll be buying from them.

Survived it

Biopsy results in 2 weeks time.