So every time I go away I get 'ill'. This time it was either a prolapse, a hernia or sciatica. Logically I have pulled a muscle at the top of my thigh but I am a hypochondriac therefore I like to think the worst. That's what people like me do. I have a couple of friends that are the same and we thank god for websites like diagnose dot com to keep our already overactive imaginations working overtime. At one point today I even dragged my left leg behind me war wounded soldier stylee as I felt that I needed to feed my frantic obsession.
I also shuffled to Boots and bought some extra strength Nurofen. Now I should explain before I go any further that I do not normally take meds of any size shape or form. Last November when I was approaching meltdown I got a week's worth of sleeping tablets from my doc and I still have 4 left. It's the side effects you see - I read them and then I panic and then I take the pill and within nano seconds I have developed every single side effect known to man.
But that still didn't stop me from taking the Nurofen and as predicted I was in a delirious fever almost immediately. I lay on my bed and felt like the dying heroine in a BBC costume drama as I thrashed my weak limbs and rolled my head from side to side muttering ''no, no, nooooooooooo''. Thankfully I fell asleep and woke up and the tablets have worn off and apart from a slightly stiff hip my prolapse / hernia / sciatica seems to have cleared up lovely. It's a god darned miracle.
I have packed my bag for the expedition to Brizzle. I have written lists ( obviously ) and I have post it notes all over my office and I have even placed everyone's keys in little bags with their names on. I have emailed all the agents and said that I would be away as from tomorrow which there was absolutely no point in doing as one of them thought it was today and kept ringing my emergency numbers. I have done all bank transfers for the week ahead and there is a fridge full of food.
And on to food.............will I cope with not being here and still sort of sticking to my diet? I am guessing that mother may not feed me tomorrow or will underplay what's on offer so much that I will feel a bit awkward and say 'no, honestly, I'm fine' whilst coughing to disguise the sound of my tummy rumbling. I know I am being cynical and am hoping to be proved wrong. Put it this way - I doubt a fattened calf is being sacrificed at the moment in Bristol.
I shall put on a brave face and think of all the big shops instead.
And no, I haven't packed any Nurofen.