Feel much lower today – woke up with ‘Oh no, I’m such a cunt’ moping around my head. I have two hospital appointments tomorrow which I’m not in the mood for, but at least I can ask them about the heart issues I’ve been having (140 bps when inactive, and then sometimes dropping to 50 bpm suddenly – plus weird woozy feelings when I stand up quickly, sort of nearly fainting but not quite getting there). A few days ago I thought I was going to stop blogging when I felt down, but made a promise to myself to write regardless, as it’s probably good for me.
I have managed to eat something, porridge is always excellent, especially when it goes all curdly and lumpy. Daniel called me this morning (weird psychic thing when he ‘knows’ I need a phone call) and he was so relentlessly playful and full of life, he never hesitates to make me smile. He had some gossip about an old friend who’s gone and got himself all married. Dear me. This is a boy who used to drown ants for fun and wrote ‘poof’ on my bare arse whilst I slept. That poor girl.
Anyway, better get back to reading ‘The Folding Star’. I hate Alan Hollinghurst and I need to remind myself why. Here is a picture especially for Jo, marrying my love of Bardot with Jo’s apparent love of French girls in men’s clothes:
and here is a message for anyone who feels low today: