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[24 Oct 2004|06:01pm] |
Okay, explanation time! My absence has been due to illness. Though this is possibly a reprieved from madness to some of you.
Let's kick off, then...last night. Working was comfortably quiet, a reasonable forty eight people...taking some mercy on the fact that I was on my own. The only discomfort came from the stupidly hot kitchen, bled in from the bar which was overly heated...despite the mild autumnal weather.
I left the kitchen at about 10:30, and sat with Bolb and Stuart, who turned up shortly afterwards. We chatted a while, and went to the New Inn, to be laughed at by the prole bank masses at our pool playing. One particular fat cunt with the voice of a particularly uncouth builder, and a paunch the size of a fucking airbus choked through his pint "Pub closes at twelve!"
Brilliant, mate. If only your wit matched your beer belly, you'd be a fucking genius.
I left after a few games and a few pints, not drunk, but getting reasonably fed up. What the hell were you on about last night Stuart? That's why I left early...really seemed you had a problem with me. Unless it was a joke, please remember I do like you, and would not have you so close in my company if that were not so. Frankly, I get fed up when my friendship is questioned. I do not need that shit, unless you were having a laugh, if so please disreguard this paragraph.
Yes, so largely now fed up, I drifted home, passing an unusually drunk Geoff...talking to me about the Legion and how "it's not really your scene I know, but it's a nice place"
I'm sure he assumed that my delay in filling the form in is somehow a rebuttal of joining the aformentioned club. It was not, it was a mere slovenly misplacement of the form on my part, and the fact that I have been thinking and doing other things.
I went to bed feeling utterly misunderstood then, by many people. However, not very drunk. And this dear readers, leads me to my reason for not being here this morning.
I woke up at eight in a bleakly dark lonely room, with a small headache. It was knocking at the door of migraine, but not finding it's keys. I came downstairs to look for apsrin, my frown deepening as I found none. Great...wandered back to bed to try and sleep it off.
Woke up an hour and a half later, the fucking pounding was too much, the door to my inner lobes burst open and a full blown banging began. I slept some more, even worse...desperate to shit the thing out before work (As the very prospect of working Sunday lunch is bad enough normally, let alone in the throes of nausea and migrained), I made for the bathroom to retch it all away. And I did..nausea abaited, head grew worse with each heave.
Yuck. I wasn't even drunk...I found out the possible reason for this sickness. Apparently Aleks and Andy had it yesterday. My body can absorb four pints of Guiness without difficulty, but if a virus is present, i'm in a lot of trouble.
Work loomed...I lay on the bathroom floor turning head this way and that, trying to coax the headache out, settling my stoman. It did enough, and I went to work, blinking at dark skies filled with clouds mirroring my mood and health.
Work oddly made me feel better...Aleks and Dave were good company, as was Lisa, and after a few pain killers and some washing up, I felt good. Got my holiday money, realised I was off for the next five days, and felt warmly satisfied. And I haven't even though about smoking today.
Got home, laughed through almost every second of "The Green Wing", as if this were still possible with comedy. It is. The program is anarchically excellent.
And so, we come to Sunday night. I am much better, have some tea, and i'm staying in tonight. I can't even muster the energy to lift my screwy eyelids.
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