Sorry to all those reading for the complete lack of blogging on my part (ooeer, sounds a bit rude), but the last week seems as if the dark lord himself has cometh and done a big shit on me. Putting aside the 14 hour days, lack of sleep and of course the overwhelming smell of fish (it's not me or the missus that smells that way), the stresses of being a father-to-be have taken their toll too. Picture this if you will: Sunday night, I've been awake since 4.30 AM, moved a few hundred kilos of live fish, when Nikkie (the good wife) is suffering from stomach pains at 9 PM. Shitting bricks at this point, we both jump into the Range Rover and head, at warp speed Mr Sulu, to Leicester General Hospital to discover they haven't had an Emergemcy Room for the last ten years… Back in the car… Sterling Moss has nothing on me. Driving as fast as the V8 will carry us, we finally arrive at Leicester Royal Infirmary. Good name for a hospital, I was feeling very infirm by this point. Two hours and a good few questions later, of which I had no answers, we get the all-clear. Shaking like Mohammed Ali I now attempt to drive home. What happens I hear you ask? It snows like a bastard is what. 6 inches in two hours? Many a man would be proud of six inches for two hours… Oh dear the puns just keep on coming.
We arrive home safely in Narnia, where there's no snow. Must be the Ice Queens week off.
Still, on the plus side, I have been eating many home-baked cakes of late. Otherwise, life is still pretty damn fine. Haven't moved house yet as the toffy-nosed wankers we're renting the place from have been away skiing since god knows when.
And another thing, I hate patronising doctors… How do they expect you to be after sitting in a waiting room full of half-pissed chavs… I hate chavs too.
