Wednesday, 9 February 2011


I had a rubbish day yesterday. It started off with me treading in a teeny blob of cat poo, which I then inavertently spread around the kitchen floor on the bottom of my bestest Fat Face furry boot slippers. It ended in Andy coming home and finding me crying over a pile of ironing.

I shan't go into detail of what constituted the whole wreck of a day, but suffice to say it involved a moaning Mum, a badly treated ex-work colleague whom I bumped into in Sainsbugs, a very ill neighbour, a crowded town full of people who couldn't keep their loud mouths and pushy elbows to themselves and the sudden and over-riding feeling that I am generally crap at everything.

Of course, I shall blame my increasingly swinging hormone levels for most of it, and the human race for the rest.

On the plus side, the fruit cage arrived as did my free copies of the new Edexcel English language and literature syllabuseseses, syllabi, syllabum which are the size of house bricks but I feel I should read and digest in order to keep abreast of curriculum changes in order to benefit my tutees.

And the best plus side was Andy giving me a big bear hug and telling me I'm great and I must do whatever I want to do because he just wants me to be happy.

As my Mum and Auntie Pollie are forever reminding me, 'You struck lucky with that one.'

Today was better, you'll be pleased to know. Mostly because I was able to do some writing during my lunch break at school and the moon is on the wane. I think. Well, it looked pretty thin last night when I was standing in the garden howling at it.

Mrs Pumphrey is all better, now that she's been superglued. And the bees were out yesterday, too; I went and had a chat to them to tell them about my rubbish day. They told me to open a can of toughen up, stop blubbing and get on with life. I nodded meekly and went inside, because when you're feeling crap, the last thing you want is castigation from a few hundred bees. I thought, the cats will be more sympathetic, but all Phoebe did was snore even louder. Tybalt said he'd like to listen but he had an urgent tax return to fill in, and Pandora said, 'You think you've got problems? What about me, eh? What about me? I'm most important.' So I gave her some toast because it's the only way to shut her up these days.

I'm lucky my bad days are a rare thing. At least I know it'll be a long time before I have another one!

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