Week Two: The Proclaimers

 Another week boxed off, and another week closer to being able to sit in a beer garden with all the girls and a big double gin in a nice gin balloon, with your sunglasses on and staring more at your own reflection in your mates sunnies than at your mate (you know that post lock down glow we will all have after that first blow dry/fresh nails/tan/makeup). I think that’s the thought getting me through lockdown this week. 

Well done to everyone who has managed not to lose their shit over the simplest things and are managing to convey a sense of normality in the day-to-day.Some days I’m up and at em by 9 am, and some days I want to scream into a pillow. I am if anything, all about the balance.

I’ve never watched so much daytime tele in my whole life. I would love to know what the recruitment process is for reality tv programs. Who are they looking for, and what do they want? Are bad jokes and a love of sexual innuendos a must when applying for Come Dine With Me? Is it only the self obsessed B&B owners that go on Four In a Bed? Like what level of crazy is enough, and when is it too much? 

I made two cakes this week and was made up with myself. Not only were they fit, but I was also able to use one cake as a bargaining tool to get more cake. A stroke of genius if you may and one all should be doing for optimum cake supply. For half a victoria sponge, I got two slices of cheesecake and two cookies in return. Both were amazing and for a few days the world didn’t seem too bad. 

If you’re planning on going on a walk at some point today then I highly recommend listening to The Proclaimers, ‘500 Miles’ at least once. Talk about a song giving you purpose. Absolutely marched my way around Speke, and for 3 minutes and 39 seconds I forgot that everything was shit. Also, ‘I’m on my way’ is an absolute tune too, works best walking home, the last sprint.

I still CAN.NOT.STOP.EATING. Seriously though, I stood in the kitchen the other day eating peanut butter and jam on a spoon continuously until the spring of the toaster nearly gave me a heart attack so I had to stop. I’m just eating for the sake of it, half the time I’m not even aware I’m doing it until I realise ‘oh fuck, I’m eating again’. Then on another day I stood eating Fruit and Fibre out the box for 5 minutes before I realised the only reason I went in the kitchen was to do the dishes and I hadn’t even filled up the sink yet. This is how bad my hunger/boredom levels have got; of all things dry Fruit and Fibre out the box is not the one. Not even worth the calories.

I’d been home from Thailand for exactly two years on Sunday, thanks to Facebook for reminding me. A slightly grim and depressing fact considering my old flat had a rooftop pool and gym, which I used about three times. Not as grim as some of the other memories from when I used to refer to myself in 3rd person, and say shit like ‘dude’ and, ‘me thinks’. What a knob. I cringe reading them back but I love it. I love seeing how much of a gimp I was/am. 

Anyway, I hope the mundane-ness of my week has provided some distraction from the dreaded C-word. If anyone else is blogging or being creative let me know, as I too am equally bored as fuck and would appreciate a distraction!

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