Four eyelashes and a wedding.

Ooh heck, I think I've broken myself. Which part of my brain thought it would be a good idea to completely exhaust myself with endless off-balanced Amy Winehouse/Kanye West/Dirty Dancing routines at J's wedding? The bloody brilliant part, that's what. But blimey, am I in trouble now. I'm waddling rather than walking, my creaking bones could provide the sound effects to a horror film, and I'm

Four eyelashes and a wedding.

By: Unknown on: 07:29

Pull out the stopper.

Ooh it's all go in here. Morning suits hanging from every curtain rail, hat boxes out in the spare room, marks on the carpet from new shoes being worn in, and me and Mum look like we've been dipped in gravy after getting a spray tan. Oh, and a certain kid brother of mine is sitting beside me with a grin the size of a banana (let's see if he's still smiling at me tomorrow when he realises who fed

Pull out the stopper.

By: Unknown on: 08:49

My lovely lady lumps.

I've just frightened the bejeezers out of a guy on my street by nonchalantly whipping off the wig in my front room, forgetting I was in full view of the world outside. The poor sod went white, standing there perplexed with his car keys falling out of his hand. Even as he drove off, he was still staring through my bay window, trying to figure out what the hell he'd just seen. What fun. I have got

My lovely lady lumps.

By: Unknown on: 11:09

It's serious.

There's a bit of a vibe of The Smiths about my posts this week, but then I'm in a very Smiths place. Introspective, deep, alienated and gloomy, but with a chirpy, jangly Johnny Marr melody over the top, at odds with the rest.Last night, I dreamt that somebody loved me. (I promise to pack it in quoting these lyrics next week, non-Smiths fans.) But I did, as it goes. It was Dave Grohl (obv) and he

It's serious.

By: Unknown on: 06:57

Heaven knows...

Well I've been a right miserable git this week. Frustrated, angry, feeling sorry for myself, moaning at every opportunity. I've become the Morrissey of breast cancer. (I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour... but then The Bullshit came along and fucked it all up. Or so the lyric goes.) EVERYTHING is pissing me off at the moment: my tongue (green and furry), the squirrels in our garden (sneaky

Heaven knows...

By: Unknown on: 12:13

Pills 'n' thrills and bellyaches.

Okay okay, I spoke too soon. I've hit the 'buggery bit' that my favourite nurse warned me about. What I'm not experiencing in puking, I'm making up for in pain – this type of chemo ain't half rough on your bones. But, useless as I am here on the sofa, the not-spewing stuff has made me about as happy as you can be when you're flat on your back (well, not quite that happy, but you get my point).

Pills 'n' thrills and bellyaches.

By: Unknown on: 10:19

I shall be released.

Well this is weird. My legs don't work too well, the signals from my brain are much slower in getting to my body parts, my heart is thumping, my bones are painful, I've got a dodgy tummy, I've been put on more than double my usual amount of bloat-inducing steroids (told you I'd reach George Dawes stakes by my brother's wedding) and I've got a weird taste in my mouth that's like sucking on coins.

I shall be released.

By: Unknown on: 08:17