... I think. Hurrah. But am about as lively as a squeezed-out sponge. Still didn't feel able to go to bed last night, though I managed to get 4 hours' sleep on the sofa early morning, so that was a relief. How I wish we'd bought a three-seater sofa though ... but where would we put it in our flat?? The plus side was that I caught up on the late-night wedding stories and, yes, Peter and Carlton did get married, and their costumes did turn up. Phew. As did Peter's estranged father, who was really quite sweet. And cute too - or maybe that was me being ill? Anyway, it was all wonderful and totally Cilla, and I cried like a dolt. That said, I had been put out of my misery beforehand by the kind-hearted Sarah (http://www.myspace.com/henna_rouge) who knew one of the bridesmaids, so my sick person's viewing wasn't as agonising as it might have been - thanks, Sarah!
It must also be the way I'm feeling right now, but I have to confess that I got totally wrapped up in "Springwatch" on TV last night, and am now desperately worried about the choughs (sp?) and the baby owls. Goodness me, I never knew Nature could be so stressful ... Oh, and I watched "The Graham Norton Show" for the first time too (so I'm no longer a Graham Norton virgin ...) - what a hoot. Loved it. Must watch again.

And I managed to eat a small salmon starter from Waitrose last night (I love salmon - under the right circumstances, I'd probably kill for it ...), and then had the other from the pack of two this morning for breakfast. So at least I've eaten something. And bizarrely that seems about all I can handle right now. Bloody hell, but when sick I do eat some weird stuff. I can remember the Christmas of the Nasty Flu many years ago now when I survived for 5 days on a diet of water, chocolate mints and Mills & Boon novels. And was none the worse for it afterwards, either, when I went back to normal. Apart from never wanting to read another M&B novel again, that is. Though I suspect that's just common sense. (And yes, I know they're very hard to write and the people that write them should be given medals and praised to the skies - but they're just bloody hard to read as well. I mean, what's the point??)

This morning (at least "morning" for normal people), I cancelled my golf game with Marian, and am in the process of cancelling all my weekend stuff too. Or as much of it as I can. There just ain't no way I'm going more than twenty feet from the flat if I can possibly help it. Unless Colin Farrell turns up of course. And then I might simply invite him in - though he'll have to deal with the mess.

The rest of the time, I have lounged around, watched "Loose Women" (oh, I'm hooked now, I'm hooked, God help me ...) and finished off Philippa Gregory's The Boleyn Inheritance. What can I say? The usual classic, gripping Gregory novel. Buy it now. Read it now. You won't regret it. I particularly loved the way Anne of Cleves grows so much throughout - it's a pleasure to see.

Oh, and Lord H will be so pleased, as I've just now had a bath and got dressed. Hell, I've even washed my hair. And put some make-up on. I've opened the curtains too! When he came back home yesterday evening, his eyebrows shot up at the realisation that, whilst he'd been at work, his wife had been replaced by a clapped-out pig on heat with hair you could fry bread on. Dressed in a stripy pink dressing-gown too. Oh, what a delightful image indeed - I must use it one day in my dreamed-for periodical, "Knackered Woman". It can be on the front cover of the inaugural edition ... Anyway, I hope that Lord H's homecoming tonight will be marginally less stressful for him.

Tonight, I shall do sod all. Frankly, having a bath has used up my day's supply of energy and I suspect it will be time for a nap fairly soon. Again. I think the grand finale of "Ugly Betty" is on though, so I can't miss that. Bloody hell, but the cleaning can wait.

Today's nice things:

1. Salmon starter x2
2. Philippa Gregory's book
3. Feeling a little more human, and less like a walking (for "walking", read "staggering") bundle of sicknesses - hurrah!

Anne Brooke

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