The trouble with forgetting to take your happy-pills away with you for a three day weekend is that although when you come home you start taking them immediately, there appears to be this kind of time-lag thing that happens that means that you go a bit mad a few days later.
So today, I have mostly been rocking too and fro and mumbling.
Tomorrow, we go to Wallasey to take Kate out for a birthday / Mother's Day meal. Hopefully I will have stopped rocking by then, even if I'm still mumbling a bit. It's the first time I'll have eaten anything more than cake in public for nearly three months and I am very much looking forward to it.
In other news, I think that George The Barnvelder Cockerel is going to have to go. He's getting quite narky in a Violent Attack Cockerel kind of way; and I saw him eyeing up someone-and-their-dog walking up the road in a worrying fashion yesterday. Hopefully there will be a brief gap between a complete cessation of vomiting and my becoming the size of a whale which will mean I can off him with my faithful broomstick.
For today, that is all. I am going to bed.