I woke up all bent and broken on the sofa, after giving rose the double bed to spread out in. The good news is that I don't feel as sick as I did yesterday, and indeed, the night was unbroken by vomming. Bonus!
However, the night was punctuated by some very strange dreams... I owned a house in Camden, and insisted that everyone walked around in the nude (?!) I had placed items from the kitchen all over the house, including cups, cutlery and glasses on the stairs, which I systematically trod on over and over again every time I moved. I had invited Clair, Pippa and Tom round for the evening and insisted that they wear nothing but togas...I think I am a bit of a sicko for dreaming this, and I really don't know which creepy nook of my mind these sorts of weird thoughts come from. But obviously dream Clair, Pipp and Tom agreed and banished me from my own house, dropping me off nude outside of Kentish Town station to fend for myself. The dream descends into chaos at this point when I find myself navigating the route of the 29 night bus, still in the nude, at the back of the bus trying to hide. The 29 is definitely bad enough when you are fully clothed. When I did make it back to my house in the dream, none of my three friends would let me in and I had a drinking glass impaled in my foot from my travels which I was too much of a woofter to remove. What a saddo! Rose on the other half, dreamed that I was going out with an elderly Chinese man... I think we were involved in baby smuggling or something similarly sinister.
Something strange that I now realise was reality and not a dream was the yesterday's lunchtime visit to Ely hospital's very own top class eaterie, 'The Docky Box'. My dad and I visited the DB whilst Rose was under the knife at about 1.45 yesterday lunchtime. The DB does a wide variety of hot Fenland lunch for the staff and inmates at Ely hospital. Of all the relatives of the poor and sickly that may have dined in this fine establishment before, they can never have experienced any custom before like that of my dad... On the noticeboard outside there are photos of the four members of staff, lovely old ladies that they are - Joyce was my favourite, she was the only one smiling in the photos. In fact, the other kindly old dears all looked as though they were being tortured in their picces - the contrast of dear old Joyce smiling made me almost think that she was taking some perverse pleasure in their collective pain.
However, the night was punctuated by some very strange dreams... I owned a house in Camden, and insisted that everyone walked around in the nude (?!) I had placed items from the kitchen all over the house, including cups, cutlery and glasses on the stairs, which I systematically trod on over and over again every time I moved. I had invited Clair, Pippa and Tom round for the evening and insisted that they wear nothing but togas...I think I am a bit of a sicko for dreaming this, and I really don't know which creepy nook of my mind these sorts of weird thoughts come from. But obviously dream Clair, Pipp and Tom agreed and banished me from my own house, dropping me off nude outside of Kentish Town station to fend for myself. The dream descends into chaos at this point when I find myself navigating the route of the 29 night bus, still in the nude, at the back of the bus trying to hide. The 29 is definitely bad enough when you are fully clothed. When I did make it back to my house in the dream, none of my three friends would let me in and I had a drinking glass impaled in my foot from my travels which I was too much of a woofter to remove. What a saddo! Rose on the other half, dreamed that I was going out with an elderly Chinese man... I think we were involved in baby smuggling or something similarly sinister.
Something strange that I now realise was reality and not a dream was the yesterday's lunchtime visit to Ely hospital's very own top class eaterie, 'The Docky Box'. My dad and I visited the DB whilst Rose was under the knife at about 1.45 yesterday lunchtime. The DB does a wide variety of hot Fenland lunch for the staff and inmates at Ely hospital. Of all the relatives of the poor and sickly that may have dined in this fine establishment before, they can never have experienced any custom before like that of my dad... On the noticeboard outside there are photos of the four members of staff, lovely old ladies that they are - Joyce was my favourite, she was the only one smiling in the photos. In fact, the other kindly old dears all looked as though they were being tortured in their picces - the contrast of dear old Joyce smiling made me almost think that she was taking some perverse pleasure in their collective pain.
My father's insatiable desire for a lot plate of food with a hot pud to boot would try even the patience of saintly Joyce. Not realising that the DB opens for lunch service in line with local GMT Ely hours at 11am, and by 1.45pm...all hot food was gone. Not for dad though, who took Joyce to one side and begged for some delicious hot dinner. Bribery of some sort took place and within minutes omlette, chips and salad arrived in front of him followed by treacle tart and hot custard. The lovely Joyce beamed at him, I think there may have been a wink too. I had a yogurt and a carton of 'beena and watched in wonderment as he ate. Good times.
Tonight I recommend: Total Wipeout, So you think you can Dance? and ITV's Take Me Out. I won't say any more. Just watch them. Dear God, I know I will be.
What I learned today:
Simon will stop at nothing to get his lunch.
Saturday night TV is ridiculous and AMAZING.
Never put Ian Beale's face on your blog again.
Have a fabbo Saturday!
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