Apologies again for the morose offering on Saturday, I was feeling rather overwhelmed by it all for a moment there. But, as I said, if I didn't activate the relief valve once in a while I would surely go a bit crazy. Well, more so than I already am...
Fear not 'though, normal service has been resumed.
The last day of my 20s! About bloody time. I've been looking forward to this moment for months. The 'Christmas Eve' sense of anticipation is gathering pace rapidly. If I'm not careful, I'll make myself sick with excitement. Oh, wait...
I have a history of doing that. Getting so excited (birthdays, Christmas, DFS sales*....) about something I end up physically ill. In fact, my 10th birthday has gone down in family legend:
My party that year was American themed. Loosely. Very loosely. We tucked into burgers (yeah, no stereotypes here.), ice cream and mounds of toffee popcorn whilst watching (my guests) and singing horrendously out of tune to (me) the celluloid camp-fest that is Grease.
An hour or so in, after warbling my way through all the classics, and boogieing my little socks off (nothing's changed, they're still little now), I started to get a stabbing pain in my ribs. "Too much popcorn" the adults admonished wryly and, after administering a swift indigestion tablet, I was released back into the fray.
But the pain didn't go away. It got worse. Just as Sandy was getting her man, and some rather uncomfortable chafing in certain areas, I was lying on our couch in agony, my guests having been sent home in hushed tones. And that's when the cake came out.
At this point I was struggling to breathe, but I managed a few feeble attempts at extinguishing the candles. Only for them to burst into flame again. And again. And again.
Yes, as fate would have it, that was year that my Mum, in her wisdom, had treated me to magic relighting candles (it was the 90s, we were easily pleased back then). There was me, a distinctly unhealthy shade of grey, gasping for breath, and being tormented by these sodding candles that would not go out. Oh and then the ambulance arrived.
One bout of double pneumonia, a blood gas, two drips, and ten days in hospital later and I was finally able to blow them out. Victory!
My life: you couldn't make it up.
So, yes, tomorrow? I am excited. Also? I will be aiming to stay as far away as possible from popcorn and pyrotechnical trickery.
*I'm kidding. No really, I am.