First proper hang out with a friend complete. I met my friend and her son for a chat and a coffee. I took all the painkillers I was allowed because my tonsils and I are still not on speaking terms but despite feeling like I'd swallowed a box of pins with a toddler's arm band inflated around my neck, I was really glad I had some time to just chill out and mull over the bizarre turn things have taken.
We'd said we wouldn't talk about the 'C' word but naturally she had questions and I suppose naturally too I wanted to fess up a tiny bit about how things had been going. I've kept a lot of the neurotic rantings of potential tumours and long term prospects confined to this blog and I'm still not ready to saddle anyone else with the full extent of the fear but it wasn't as bad as I thought it might be to agree that whilst the news is brilliant, it still was about as appealing to develop any type of cancer as it would be to lick mouldy peanut butter off a stray cat's tail. She attempted to convince me to tell my team (I said no thanks) and that I could be offended that some people were avoiding me after I had told them (I agreed it was rubbish but their choice).
It wasn't all doom and gloom by any stretch of the imagination. We did the yoghurt pot and string thing for homework (her son's) and caught up on more Tom and Jerry than I ever thought I could be missing. We went for a drink and a nice walk along the sea front. I stood 'Christ the Redeemer' style in the sunshine, enjoying the warmth on my face. Not for too long though obviously else I'd spontaneously combust like all true gingers do (total drag). It was just normal and fun.
On the way home I dropped in on some friends whose cats we were feeding to return their keys. I learnt they get their jarmies on early (I approve) and that I want hippo jarmies. I also came away with a gorgeous bunch of flowers as a thank you which was entirely unnecessary since I'd have happily fed them just for an excuse to harass the furries with love and cuddles!
I've finished my Sunday off in my own jarmies, dosed up with Despicable Me and Monsieur Hairypants. I even sat in my very own box of shame for a bit (for the sake of sitting in the living room in a box, not through actual shame). I want a minion!
Not a bad Sunday at all really.
