Hello dear readers,
Well, I am definitely feeling on the upswing, more my old self and less a sentient, moving corpse with sensitive emotions and the tendancy to over-indulge in comfort foods and bad television.
It's all in the grey matter, you see.
I've been bothered for several days by a dripping shower head. It's really quite maddening and despite wrenching (and pleading) keeps up its endless din.
I realise I should employ a plumber, but a) they are costly, and b) I don't like people in my home.
The solution: I have convinced myself that the constant drip-drop-drip is actually the ticking of a grand and majestic grandfather clock, bestowed upon me by my beloved grandfather, who taught me how to fly-fish in the streams of Inverness and who smelled like cherry pipe tobacco.
All of this is complete bollocks, of course, including the fish, but it has transformed the annoying battering of water droplets on ceramic into the reassuring and comforting movement of finely crafted clock workings.
Mind over matter. I've transformed misery into joy. Now I'm off to bend a spoon.