squitter critter

I’m back at home again; my return to work was a little premature methinks, I knew I should’ve been resting up, I fucking told you.

Yesterday was of course dreadful. I spent much of it in limbo between my desk and the bog, if you were to have averaged out my day it would’ve been a single image of me looking pensive either going to, or returning from, the chod bin.

By late morning I have to say I was feeling better so at lunch I concluded that I was pretty much cured, I ate a sandwich which was free from diary and enjoyed a small packet of Walkers salt and vinegar Square crisps, which are delicious, low in fat and great as a mid morning snack or pre teatime treat.

The afternoon was okay too, actually, yes, I think I was all right –I even regretted cancelling meeting a friend in town but felt it wise to not push my luck. ‘I’ll just have a quiet one’ I pondered, chewing the cap of a Bic biro as I did so. The day passed slowly and uneventfully, for April Fools Day it was a fucking shit dull load of toss if you ask me. Frank had suggested we meet up for a quick pint, I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea but like the hero you know and love, I succame, all over my tits.

It was a very pleasant evening, the first time I’ve been down the local in daylight for a while, it even felt a bit odd sat in there with sunshine streaming through the window, proper alcoholism stuff. Ace. Frank and I caught up and I impressed him with toilet-based tales of daring-do, we only had a couple pints as I didn’t want to push my luck and I toddled home after spending an hour catching up passing fucking satan is lord Tesco to pick up some vegetables.

I ate last night as normal, as if well, I’d picked up a slab of fresh smoked fish from the market in Whitstable and I ate half of it in a tortilla wrap with salad and tomato, it was rather good, I watched The Road to Perdition, it was rather like the slab of fresh smoked fish from the market in Whitstable which I’d eaten half of in that tortilla wrap with salad and tomato I mentioned back there.

I awoke in the middle of the fucking night with cramps and then this morning I was once again blasting my arsehole into smithereens with something resembling marmalade and curdled milk, really think about that too, awful isn’t it…

You may be thinking, ah ha, the fish was to blame, or perhaps the beer, but you’d be bang wrong, it was simply the bug (didn’t Tina Turner do that?). I should’ve rested up yesterday instead of cavorting round the office. I’ve just heard from Myfwt, she’s at work complaining of a stomach upset and is feeling nauseous, oh dear, here we go again.

This is rather quirky and lovely.