Returning to work

This is great, I’m a real person again, no one’s even acknowledged that I was ever off, I’m busy. I’m doing something, I am contributing to the turning of the world, everything is going to be ok, no one is asking me if I’m alright every five bloody minutes, no one is looking at me with their head cocked slightly to the right like I might die in front of them, lovely , just normal and lovely… Mind you, maybe one “so how are you doing?” would be nice, I mean I was off for a while, it would just be polite for someone to acknowledge that I’ve been away and not well… Would it kill someone just to ask me if it all went ok, you know, because it was all quite traumatic you know, I wasn’t just off with the bloody flu or something, someone cut me open…A LOT…No, this is good, no special treatment, just normal… Honestly?! Nothing at all?! No one’s even acknowledged that I was ever off!

Bastards.

Excuse me Mr

I found out the other day that someone I used to know has a my space page, and I was sat here thinking I would like to write all about how cliched it is that someone would have a my space page, like who the hell do you think you are to create something all about you on the internet and expect people to read it and actually be interested in your life when essentially you're not actually a very interesting person, you're just... a person.

And then I realised that I was about to write this rant on my fucking blog.

So then I played Tragic Kingdom at a very loud volume and thought about how much easier it was to not have anything to do with people you hated when there was no internet.

I must be better...

...because I am bored!

Like, my brain is going to explode, itchy feet, I might go running or redecorate my house or mow the lawn or drive to Scotland or dance naked in my bedroom at night with the lights on and the curtains open kind of bored.

So there we have it, the first week I was out of the hospital I was so poorly that I couldn't get bored, there was no room in my "POOR ME" mentality for boredom, I was literally surviving minute to minute, then the second week, I was kind of up for getting off the sofa but though the mind was willing, the body was weak. Now it'e the beginning of week three and yes! I am bored! I never thought I would be so happy to be so frustrated by not doing anything!

I have bought stuff on Ebay that I shouldn't have bought (vintage dress and glittery eyeliners, I don't know when I'm going to wear the eyeliners, last time I looked electric blue glittery eyes were not a pre-requisite for working in an FE college, but you know, Florence might not be as classy as I think) and I have a watch list of Nikon D70's that I am praying will one day unearth one that's less than £450. no luck yet....

But I did see Ian McKellan's penis on friday night, so that was aewsome (that man has nothing to be ashamed of, NOTHING, and I was in the circle....). We had tickets for the RSC's production of King Lear with Sir Ian playing the tortured patriarc and it was wonderful, not cheery wonderful, a kind of wow, they gouged out BOTH his eyes didn't they?! Right there in front of me... Gross! There was some unnecessary but fascinating nudity and Sylvester McCoy was hung right before Glenn didn't buy me ice cream in the interval. Yep, Trevor Nunn killed Dr Who, and not before time...

I have uploaded tonnes of photo's onto Flickr, where my account name is Spanairspan, because unbelievably, there is already a spanair! So I guess that means two of us will be sued when we are discovered by the literary world and the airline takes umbrage at us using their name to make millions.

Here is a photo of my eyes as a teaser... Let us not mention my giant nose, I said let us NOT.