| 2018 | 11 | 06 | ice cream sundaes and a whole loada trifle |

okay. it's been a while.


hi there.

please just picture me carefully waving from whichever writing location you'd actually imagine someone would chose.

i've gone for the pile of bedding I can't bring myself to finish actually putting on my bed.

and my mum wonders why I sleep on the sofa.


yesterday. step count : over 10,000. word count: borderline 34875320394875. approx.

I think I might be out of practice so bear with me here.

there is legitimately more than I can coherently write down to write down.

within the ten minutes I've given myself the best I will be achieving is some kind of babble interjected with other obscurities.

wild isn't it?

point 1. I'm basically bed bound, allowed out as and when my guilt will allow.

It's hard being ill. I'm struggling with the lack of understanding from people. 'well you look fine' seems to be the most uttered phrase, along with, 'so when are you back to work'. haste is not going to be my friend here. it's hard enough battling my internal disbelief, let alone the raised eyebrows of the hardworking elite who have yet to take a sick day. do one tumbleweed.

next point. I have a house. and a housemate. yet to meet the third but we already have his cactus ready.


there's now a mug of coffee where it shouldn't be. out of it's mug. I wonder if this is how my parents felt when i was younger and let loose.