It's the weight of that last straw that did it. I was absolutely fine (well, bonkers, but fine) all morning, popped up to Muesli Hill for a little recreational expenditure (3 picture frames, a wide variety of cake decorations - silver balls are only 9p a tin!, ironing board cover, tomatoes). It's amazing what you discover you need when really you need nothing at all other than certainty, which isn't anywhere close to arriving, and which never will.
And then, just when I had convinced myself to leave the computer alone, and had the rasam recipe safely underway, the hospital social worker phoned. "I've just been talking to HBC about you. Would meeting on Tuesday be convenient?" I immediately put 2 & 2 together and made about 29: clearly, I'm doomed, they've all decided I will never work again, and this woman is going to help me fill financial support forms in before they traumatise me with a diagnosis & I forget my own middle name (mind you, just the other morning, I couldn't remember my job title, well I've been doing 3 jobs for the price of one for some years now, and they haven't been in the forefront of my mind lately, still, I was oddly stunned by the gap in my memory).
Luckily I'd put an entire casserole of rasam on the hob, because it was about 2 hours until I got back to sorting it out. It's a sort of precis of rasam, Campbell's condensed rasam, now. I just fell to bits inbetween. S opposite, MP & JS all on the phone trying to calm me down.
If I make a concerted effort, I can return to all the things that made me smile earlier: a safety warning on a tin of pencils, "Product contains sharp functional points. Please retain this information for future reference", and the unmistakeable smell of stockpiled rubber plimsolls in Woolworth's, harbinger of the new academic year.
And then, just when I had convinced myself to leave the computer alone, and had the rasam recipe safely underway, the hospital social worker phoned. "I've just been talking to HBC about you. Would meeting on Tuesday be convenient?" I immediately put 2 & 2 together and made about 29: clearly, I'm doomed, they've all decided I will never work again, and this woman is going to help me fill financial support forms in before they traumatise me with a diagnosis & I forget my own middle name (mind you, just the other morning, I couldn't remember my job title, well I've been doing 3 jobs for the price of one for some years now, and they haven't been in the forefront of my mind lately, still, I was oddly stunned by the gap in my memory).
Luckily I'd put an entire casserole of rasam on the hob, because it was about 2 hours until I got back to sorting it out. It's a sort of precis of rasam, Campbell's condensed rasam, now. I just fell to bits inbetween. S opposite, MP & JS all on the phone trying to calm me down.
If I make a concerted effort, I can return to all the things that made me smile earlier: a safety warning on a tin of pencils, "Product contains sharp functional points. Please retain this information for future reference", and the unmistakeable smell of stockpiled rubber plimsolls in Woolworth's, harbinger of the new academic year.
.
Gary Glitter has knocked Jade Goody right off the tabloids, hasn't he? Max Clifford must be steaming.
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