Reader, this illness malarkey is getting a bit dull. I stayed home from work today because my head feels full of cotton wool and I keep feeling like my bones might break beneath me, so I'm going to be royally skint for a fair while. The Lad was going to take me out to the cinema but once I'd got my make up on and skinny jeans zipped up, I was too knackered to do anything other than lay on the sofa and watch season two of Made In Chelsea (and then get weakly jealous of them). Now I'm in bed, because sitting upright felt too difficult and my head got really heavy and fuzzy.
I am not feeling quite myself.
I need to get better, because tomorrow morning brings a meeting with a potential new agent and then searching for a present for my eight year old cousin's Communion (don't want to get here anything too religious, because I'm not and it would be hypocritical, but feel a bottle of whiskey and some fags might be pushing it). If I get home early enough, I've got lots of emailing to do too, I just hope I have the energy for it after the excitement of being in Central London of a day! I may have to slink back into bed and just sleep through the afternoon to be honest. Or watch Caggie and crew go spend loads of cash on MIC.
On that note Reader, I'm going to doze off and hopefully dream of being born a biscuit empire heir,