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Documenting not dying since October 2013.

The 8th & 9th; Really fucking great friends.

The 8th & 9th; Really fucking great friends.

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The 8th of July. Oh I have had such a nice day. This morning was kind of soft and quiet; pootled about in my pyjamas, had my coffee, petted the floofs (Bree is getting better at tolerating it), then went back upstairs to get dressed for coffee and cake with Vicky this afternoon. 

She was actually early (really she had no excuse to be late because 200° is pretty much next door to where she lives) so when I got there, she had already got a cosy table. I had vouchers for free coffees so I got us both nitros and a slice of chocolate and banana loaf, then she purchased a sandwich which had peaches in but was apparently enjoyable!

We just had a lovely couple of hours, eating and talking about all the things - the saga of my arm, Glastonbury, HER ENGAGEMENT 😍, my lack of love life (she is going to do some matchmaking), Pride, politics. I do love her. If cancer has given me anything, it is some really fucking great friends. 

Since getting home, I have done much writing about yesterday and today. Tomorrow morning will involve lots of typing. 

The 9th of July. 

Just counting down the days until Wednesday. Please, please work. 

I slept really badly, for no apparent reason. Spent my morning doing the blog posts that were due with Sunday Brunch on in the background. Had lunch late because Mommy and Daddy were emptying Sadie's garage of all of Christine's crap, then spent an hour in my bedroom with a  podcast, checking my new jumper fit (it does). 

Back downstairs, we had to shut the cats in the bathroom while a mattress got added to their setup, and they did not like that, so then I sat with them (once they had been set free) and watched some Orphan Black. Halfway through season 3 now. No Wimbledon today; Anniversary games instead. Mommy has been shouting at the tv. 

Got to ring a CNS in the morning because not all the bloods that needed to be done haven't been, so I suspect I'll need to go back to clinic so they have all the information on Wednesday. I remember Neil saying what tests I needed and they had all the forms so I suspect the labs have fucked up.

 

The 10th & 11th; I want to feel like me again.

The 10th & 11th; I want to feel like me again.

The 6th & 7th; Smashed.

The 6th & 7th; Smashed.