My eyes are bleeding looking at the screen - its so bright and Il still ill. That bath last night was a right fob off. It fooled me into feeling better. Which, incidently, I am not. And I have a ton of stuff to do. I haven't got time to be sitting in pools of my own sweat and mounds of goo filled tissues.
I was laying on the sofa this avvo (Belle was at Nannies baking and Mark was making the shell of the new wardrobe with my FIL upstairs) I remembered something about when I went shopping at one minute past midnight, the monday morning of Chritsmas Eve. I wanted to get lots of fresh stuff without the stampede of last minute shoppers during the day but sadly Asda was awash with like minded people. Even kids were in trolleys with their pj's on. I went down the pasta aisle to see three young lads being merry whilst they worked. Clearly this was a crime as their manager stormed down the aisle and told these three lads "off" for singing. Jeez, what a miserable toad. As the manager walked away whilst tossing his head with a smug, superiour pride, I walked passed the lads and joked "You couldnt sing anyway". Hoping this would ease the dents in their pride, one of them replied with "Well, you can't shop".
And every day since I have laughed my head off.
Maybe though, it was one of the moments where you had to be there.
But it really was funny.