If there’s one (good?) thing to come out of my having breast cancer, it’s that Mum finally joined Facebook yesterday. Simply because she wanted to read my blog. I went out in the evening for a curry and came home later to find her chortling away to herself reading my notes. If she had only asked to read it, I would have happily told her I now have it all on this WordPress blog and she didn’t really need to join Facebook and begin sacrificing every other hour of her life to the joys of stalking. I think she may disable her account as quickly as she created it though, so there’s probably no point in you adding her.
The trouble with Mum reading the blog (it was never a secret – I think she was afraid to ask) is that she knows the identity of all those involved in these sorry tales. She is like Big Brother, watching you. She knows the author of the letter I cited on Sunday, she knows the identity of the family friend who came around asking for the surgical stockings (she did seem confused when he said he’d already seen a picture of them on the internet, but she accepted the biscuits willingly), she knows the identity of the friend who sobbed down the phone… So none of you are safe. I wouldn’t be surprised if she invites the postie in tomorrow to read my blog. The upshot of all this is that Dad has now had a key cut for me, so there will hopefully be no more embarrassing locked-in postie moments.
Weather update: it is still raining. So much so that when I went for a walk earlier during a very brief pause in the weather phenomenon where it drizzled instead of poured for a whole half hour, I only got about 500 metres from the house before I had to turn back because a large swamp created by a neighbour’s flooded drain made an entire street impassable. Is this the end of the world?
In other news, I may have solved the mystery of where the fat was taken from for my boob job. The back of my left arm (the area where a lady’s bingo wings are typically located) has been feeling very tender for the past few days and I just realized that could be why. Who knew the humble bingo wing served a purpose?
It seems the official no-more-biscuits notice didn’t quite go out in time to prevent the delivery of this little number from my lovely cousin Damian, so the Price family will continue to gratefully (and gracefully) plough through biscuits for a third week running. I also received this amazing recipe book from the fabulous Emma at Bloomberg, which will stand me in good stead for a bit of food blogging, once the cancer is done with! (Here is a pic of Oops the Llama guarding the latest deliveries, just to prove to you he’s still alive and well).
If you’re wondering why I’ve been rambling so much about biscuits and the weather for the past week or so, it’s because there haven’t been any developments on the cancer-front to speak of, and the weather and biscuits are what we Brits like to talk about in the absence of other worthy news. However, on Thursday evening I shall finally get the results of my surgery and this should provide me with some material for at least a few days, so please watch this space.