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I have toadstools in my bathroom! 

No, not real ones but a collection of spotty ones I’ve picked up over the years . There is also a giant troll in my toilet, which is apt of late. I noticed both on my hurried trip to the bathroom this morning, weighted down on a cold February morning by hoods, hats and jumpers.  I’m back in bed now and pondering how precious it is to have a home of my own and how one twist of fate can bring all that crashing down, but I’m not going there, not today. I am just greatful that somewhere in my head, even when it is cold enough to be barely habitable, I am still in love with my home and can appreciate that while I’m starting to turn blue. At least I am not in pain though…

This time last year I could barely notice anything, icy fingers of pain would grip me constantly, skilfully navigating though layers of clothing and into my very being. All I was aware of was pain and discomfort, the pain from the cold, the pain from the weight of warm clothing and most of all the pain from the medicine that was supposed to make me feel better. I still can’t wrap my head around it now, I was swallowing explosives on a daily basis. Can you picture that? I can’t help but cast my mind back to all those Road Runner cartoons I watched as a child with Wile E Coyote coming a cropper from one of his murderous plans. Some cell drawn BANG! plumes of smoke and swirling eyeballs that was all mended by the next scene. 

Swallowing explosives yourself is not much fun, knowing that it will make you feel just as shitty as it did the day before, and the day before, and the day before that. Just knowing that in approximately three hours you will feel sandpapered raw inside and out and left with all of Oliver Reed’s and George Best’s hangover headaches that they never got, and the worst part is that you have to do it to yourself. I won’t lie, I wasn’t fun to be around, I know I didn’t want to be around me, let alone any other poor sod. And this year … I’m not. Yay!  

It so nice not to to be chronically ill, it’s so nice to experience cold as, “brrr, bit chilly today!” Rather than some animalistic grunting and keening noises because you are doubled up in pain. It makes me so greatful that I can just concentrate on the good stuff in life and drop down a few gears mentally and just be pleased about the triviality of enjoying the jollity of a few bits of gewgaws and knick-knackery without a symphony of pain to draw away my focus. I like being silly and trivial, I’m not very good at it but, as an enthusiastically amateurish trivialist, I’m happy to drop down a gear once in a while and appreciate gaudy stuff and nonsense. 

I’m sure it won’t be long before I take that triviality and take it seriously, get sucked into some aspect of it and go off on one but until then…

“Aw! Wook at da cute face on dat toadstool! Bless”

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