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Migraine or Covid? Or Daisy May F***ing Cooper?

Today’s achievement?

Listening to most of that f***ing Daisy-May sh***ing Cooper’s f***ing memoir on f***ing Audio-bloody-bubble with a raging migraine – AND NO F***ING DRUGS!

At the lowest point (so far – not out of the woods, as I slink back to my bed – and it’s still daylight) I feared I had become Covidified, with a bit of a fever as I cowered in bed with my eyes closed glugging Coca Cola* as if my life depended on it, with Daisy chuffing and fuffing away on my brand new smart speaker (it will probably need a factory re-set now to unlearn its acquired sweariness, and I will have to try and  quash the re-emergence of my own original Gloucestershire twang – when she says ‘Cheltenham’ I was quite definitely back there behind the counter in Boots), but discovered I was just overheating because the cat had managed to sneak in and sit on me. It is truly ‘one of those days’. 

By the way, Daisy-May’s book is interesting and funny (and very potty-mouthed, of course) and certainly gives an insight to her journey to fame and fortune. As an aspiring (expiring?) writer myself, I sort of took heart from it. 

Except that, after hearing the awful stories behind her eventual success, even today I don’t think my life is sh*t enough.

*Coke is GP advised. I hate it. Hasn’t worked. Is clearly rubbish.


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