Fever!

It's almost 11pm on a humid Thursday evening. The house is quiet (I'm home alone), the sky has a strange, greenish tinge to it (oh I do hope there's gonna be a spaceship!), the gals are scrapping it out in the comments boxes of the previous post and I've recently managed to recreate that Chinese pork chop dish that I thought may have been a one-off (it's really simple: just mix a feels-about-the-right-amount-of-each-ingredient marinade of runny honey, soy sauce, five spice powder, star anise and dry sherry, soak a couple of boneless pork chops in it for a feels-about-right length of time, then grill them until you get lots of black crispy bits on the fatty edges - yum!). There's nobody I need to call (well there probably is, but I can't be bothered), I'm getting over a really nasty bout of tonsilitis (prescription charges: £21! That's outrageous! I wouldn't even spend that on a lipstick!) and most people I know are living it up at the opening night of the Taste of Bath Festival in Victoria Park, quaffing free champers and rubbing shoulders with big butch chefs. So what's a gal to do at a time like this? Blah-blah-blog - so here I am.

Perhaps the really high temperature is to blame, but life has felt a bit too much like the first series of a reality TV show for comfort these last couple of days (I guess that's a case of 'be careful what you ask for' in action). 

When I went to the doctor about the tonsils, we ended up having a really long chat about Yorkshire versus West Highland Terriers; you can probably guess how this conversation came about, but by the time we'd fought it out (there wasn't a clear winner), he'd allowed my appointment to overrun by 20 minutes and he still hadn't stuck his tool down my throat (fnar fnar) - and I'd forgotten to tell him that I can't hear very well at the moment as well as having frog throat ... or maybe he guessed that from the fact that I was having a conversation about dogs when he was actually asking me if I had any other symptoms. I've ended up with three different types of (expensive) antibiotics, anyway - surely one of them will unblock my aural tubes? 

Next up, the blogumentary (their words, not mine) folk are being really funny, but not in a good way; they keep calling me up at all hours of the day asking exactly what I'm doing at that very moment, and querying if I'm going to blog about it. It's a shame they don't call right now, really - but they won't, because the real reality (remember that?) that exists outside a TV set doesn't ever shape up that neatly. 

Next weirdness: I'm meant to be writing a completely anonymous piece for a certain glossy weekend newspaper magazine all about how I didn't leave home but my parents did, and when I tell the section editor that it can't really be anonymous because everybody I know already knows about it (and will therefore know exactly who I am the minute they read it), he just says "No They Won't!" really emphatically, like his life depends on it (perhaps it does, bless him).  

And in amongst all of this, it was my best friend's birthday on Tuesday and I couldn't do anything other than mime "I'll-make-it-up-to-you-when-I'm-better" in a really lacklustre way (I know that this isn't really that weird - or indeed very interesting - but I'm struggling to find a bit of catharsis). 

So why am I here again? I'm not sure really, but if you've come this far with me, I thank you from the bottom of my big, silly heart. I'm off to bed now, to continue reading a really lovely book called 'The Wisdom of Donkeys' - somehow, it makes sense of everything.