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In contrast to the heady and rapturous joy of my previous posts, today I bring the tone crashing back to earth with a bump, or probably a splat. Because my two beloved offspring have lived up to their names and filled the happy home with noxiousness, not through strife and misery but the much more direct weapon of the Screaming Yellow Zonkers in its most virulent form.
They are now recovering happily and are bouncing about in the garden.
While I sit here in misery WAITING as I have detected the preliminary symptoms in myself, and now wait for misery doom and destruction to descend on my digestive system. I wish it would just get on with it frankly. Preferably before Mr Polina decides I'm fine and pisses off for work before waiting for the answer to How are you this morning?? (this is the man who came solicitiously to our room when I was pregnant, flu ridden and running an epic fever and said Are you up to looking after the baby now, I want to go to work!)
Ah well, I have whiled away the hours waiting for my intestines to explode by reading the entire back catalogue of my darling's witterings for the Daily Telegraph, and transferring them to the website, as I am suffering from withdrawal from my lovely's presence after, oo, two days. This does not bode well for the next two months!
*sits doomfully waiting*
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Eesh.
First of all I'M SORRY I AM A BOTTLE OF SHITE at keeping in touch at the moment. Combinations of operas, illnesses and so forth have kept me running about and basically I haven't got my arse in gear. Bah. So, I'm not ignoring everyone whom I have catastrophically failed with memes etc etc etc and will be back on the case.
Flute was fab. What a total joy to be with a cast of people who were (a) all good, (b) all jolly and (c) completely devoid of bloody annoying egotistical temperament. I'm lucky; this is about the fourth show in a row I've done where everyone has conspicuously NOT got on my tits. And they've been some of the best work I've done. (with the exception of course of the first night of Flute, when I had no voice; however I seem vaguely to have got away with it, thus adding weight to my theory that the more breast you reveal on stage the less likely anyone is going to be listening. Hmmm. Years of practice clearly unnecessary).
What else has been happening. Ah yes. Mr P has had manflu. Or, to be fair, he has had a proper fluey cold (NOT FLU) and been jolly ill, and taken to his bed for two days. But then when he gave it to ME he said he'd taken enough time off work so I had four days of feeling like a pile of shit and having to look after and entertain the small people. Totally reasonable, but Grrrrrrrr.
Oh. And my lovely is off for TWO MONTHS. Woe woe woe, what am I going to do with myself? Apart from watch the resultant programmes with a great deal of enthusiasm of course, but two months??? Boo! And I probably won't get to see him before he goes. Amusement required until mid-May, please....
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