Last week I told you how I had a bad strain of the flu virus – well the joyful news this week is that it didn’t get any better.
In fact it got worse and I was so bad over the weekend that I was unable to go to my sister’s hen do on Saturday night.
You can imagine I took that well, can’t you! I was so very upset.
She, of course, was the cool cucumber she always is and had the ‘don’t sweat it’ attitude.
But me being, well, me, I was mortified. I was so genuinely upset that I couldn’t be there for her and equally as upset that I didn’t get to be part of the girly shenanigans that took place that night – if the pictures were anything to go by that is.
Obviously there are rules I have to adhere to here.
In a nutshell, that means I have to keep quiet about what went on.
But let’s just say I will never look at my aunties in the same way again – shame on you ladies! Ha ha.
Jo, my older sister whose hen do it was, looked on the bright side of my absence by informing me that I can make it up to her by organising another night out just for us.
She’s a clever lass my sister.
I’m still not completely better, but I feel a little lifted by the prospect of organising a big night out for her.
I’m still commuting to London every day, which is a bit of a killer.
If I have to sit next to one more overly nasal man in a suit, who clearly has no clue that there are tissues that could fix that irritating nose whistle, I’m going to scream.
I didn’t mind it at first, but I think the novelty has well and truly worn off.
I just can’t do the whole ‘we’re City kids and we’re cool and collected whilst we read our broadsheets and talk like we’re all very important’ thing.
Perlease! I feel like reminding them that they got on at Fratton the same as me, so they can drop the act.
Honestly, I could write a very detailed report about social interaction on the train. It would make for a very interesting read.
Still, three more weeks to go and I’ll be ready to swop the train for a trip to Cuba. Bring it on!