June 8, 2006

  • Can't think of a title

    I'm so tired, I feel physically sick.  I have itchy-hayfevery-eyes, along with the attention span of a gnat on LSD.  And my head hurts.


    This may or may not have something to do with the fact that I got hit on the head by a flying stick during Young Collins (a.k.a. Stick Chucking) last night.  However, I only got hit.  Dave managed something more spectacular:


    DSC01479 


    Yes.  Blood.  And excess bandage (sticking plaster just wouldn't work).


    Meanwhile, I handed over a finished baby dress.  And left the booties at home.  Sigh.


    DSC01462 


    L.I.D. (Yes, those are her initials) is a very satisifactory baby to hug after you've been hit on the head by a stick during Young Collins.  Having four of the Smiffs pile on top of me after being hit on the head by the stick was, um, interesting in a sweaty sort of manner.  Very sweet was the Smiff who walked me to the tube, gave me a fond farewell before heading southbound, and then reappeared suddenly on the northbound platform, for one last goodbye in the three minutes before our respective trains arrived.  Bless him.


    Right.  I have a meeting in five minutes, I have no useful knitting to take into the meeting, and I want to curl up and wither in the sunshine.  Without the sneeziness.


    xxx




    Despite the fact that, last night, I was the most uncoordinated morris dancer ever (think dropped stick, wrong turns, wrong hand - with the stick - up in the air, hit chest with stick and that was all before I got hit in the head by a flying stick), I have just been morris dancing in the office.  To prove that coordination is required.


    I honestly don't know how I dropped my stick last night.  I think it sort of accidentally escaped while I wasn't paying attention.


    Oh.  The embarrassment.


    xxx

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