as X is stuck somewhere in the Middle East
apparently it is freezing cold in Riyadh, takes only an hour to drive from Abu Dhabi to Dubai (which he says is like Las Vegas without the neon)(altho as far as I know, he's never been to Vegas); it rained so much for so long in Abu Dhabi that the hotel atrium was gushing water - it doesn't rain very often so their gutters can't cope! or perhaps it was Riyadh where it was raining. . . I can't remember now
X had phoned for a chat (poor thing must have been feeling lonely); he said he'd had to wear a tie for the first time in three years, as he was meeting some Prince or other, and apparently his neck chaffed as a result
it's a bit strange really, cos I've tried finding a photo of an Arabian prince in a tie - and I can't! perhaps it's just the equivalent of requirements of royal formal wear? who knows. . .
this end we're still in our PJs having a relaxing day of it, homeworks are slowly being done, there's a roast to cook at some stage, kittens have been retrieved from their mother's hiding place (under my bed) and played with in front of the fire (one of the reasons for the homeworks only being done "slowly") and life goes on. . .
apparently it is freezing cold in Riyadh, takes only an hour to drive from Abu Dhabi to Dubai (which he says is like Las Vegas without the neon)(altho as far as I know, he's never been to Vegas); it rained so much for so long in Abu Dhabi that the hotel atrium was gushing water - it doesn't rain very often so their gutters can't cope! or perhaps it was Riyadh where it was raining. . . I can't remember nowX had phoned for a chat (poor thing must have been feeling lonely); he said he'd had to wear a tie for the first time in three years, as he was meeting some Prince or other, and apparently his neck chaffed as a result
it's a bit strange really, cos I've tried finding a photo of an Arabian prince in a tie - and I can't! perhaps it's just the equivalent of requirements of royal formal wear? who knows. . .this end we're still in our PJs having a relaxing day of it, homeworks are slowly being done, there's a roast to cook at some stage, kittens have been retrieved from their mother's hiding place (under my bed) and played with in front of the fire (one of the reasons for the homeworks only being done "slowly") and life goes on. . .
and, altho I wish my brain didn't work like this, all I can think of is the following song. . .
the first wonderful thing that happened to me was this poem
Whalesong*
(*read it aloud to appreciate its true wonderfulness) turns out she's a 19-year old Londoner who
I was a tube train where I enountered above poem. . . transport art is excellent, isn't it?
with a day starting out like that, I'm amazed it got any better - but it did! (of which, more later)
(but I came home on the bus, so no more poems)
internet online home delivery food order placed. . . a quick trip to the supermarket needed to tide us over in the meantime. . . as I was wandering around in a slightly disengaged state of mind I thought to myself that it has been a long time since I did any interesting cooking and just because The Teens won't eat interesting food, didn't mean that I couldn't buy something nice for myself
or something else (for which a trip to the phlebotomist is required - more needles!! thanks to the wonders of the NHS, my veins can be tapped straight after I've had the x-ray) 
when I was describing the pain to the doctor she uttered those chiling words "you might have strained your intercostal muscles" at which point I burst into tears and said that that was exactly what they told my mother every month for six months and then they finally took her pain seriously and diagnosed multiple myeloma, which had caused all her ribs to fracture. . . strained intercostal muscles don't result in being unable to sleep, yawn, laugh, cough or generally breathe due to stabbing lung pain as far as I know; it wasn't the washing-up at the weekend either, because the pain didn't start until yesterday. . .
the caption reads: