In one of the stars I shall be living.

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The 27th & 28th; This is not normal.

The 27th of August.  Slightly better night. I definitely slept more, and my dreams weren't upsetting. Improvement all round. 

Sunday Brunch this morning, although the only person I really immediately recognised was Tori Amos. None of the comedy pals were on this week. Wrote up a blog post, and exchanged messages with Sophie about her and Pete's twins, which I can now talk about because they have been officially announced. They were born a week ago, both still in hospital until they get a bit bigger. 

Grandma came for lunch, after an appalling lunch yesterday - wanted to make sure she had a decent meal this weekend. She was given "lasagna" but it looks like sloppy leftovers you wouldn't even give to a dog. Absolutely fucking atrocious.

After lunch, I went upstairs and watched the last episode of Doctor Foster, then Penny came to visit! She has come home for the weekend so came to see the kittens and had a lovely time talking to Harvey in a ridiculous voice. We had to leave when a poo happened, so we went and ate chocolate and toffee cookie cake in the kitchen. I haven't seen her properly for years so it was really nice to hang out. She is a babe. 

The 28th of August. 

I had sleep, but the dreams were not good. I am not happy with my brain right now - so many bad dreams, this is not normal. 

It is hot. Even I am actually too warm; I have had to take my cardigan off. Very unusual. Most of my day has been spent with the curtains drawn, crocheting. I think I may have actually crocheted too much, because my left hand is very achy now. No more today. 

This afternoon, I made myself an iced coffee, and it was so painful. The standing up to do so, I mean. My appointment with Dr. Blaney isn't until the third of October, so until then, I just have to suffer. When I do have to stand, or sit in an unsupportive chair, all I can think about is being able to rest, such is the agony. Penny asked me yesterday what it was like and it is so hard to describe - it's like there is a knife plunged into my spine and if just stays there, never abating. 

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