Something about glass cabinets and stories
04.01.12, 9:21 pm

Very stressful drive back from Dumfries, owing to the hideous rain and gale-force winds. Motorway driving seems to stress me out less now, which is good, but getting back to Sheffield brought it back to its familiar levels, due to a combination of rush-hour traffic, huge hills lined on both sides with parked cars, and just endless dicks on the road. Finally getting home was fantastic, and made even more so by discovering that someone had decided to hang a pair of pink pants off of our house number sign. Think I maybe found it a bit TOO funny.

First day back at work was okay, or as okay as first days back after Christmas can ever be. James was still off work, and was very pleased with himself when I staggered through the front door, as he had been to Tesco and done some tidying up. He'd also filled the glass cabinet in the spare bedroom (belonged to his late granddad so has to stay despite me secretly hating it), though he didn't seen to understand the middle-aged glass-cabinet-owning mindset, as instead of filling it with ornaments/glass paperweights/sherry glasses, he had filled it with a ceramic armadillo, a Wallace and Gromit figurine, a Lego man wearing skis and a mug with James written on it. It looks totally mental, but I kind've love the glass cabinet a little bit now.

Body is slowly getting back to normal, though it's apparently going to be a long, drawn out process. However I am now though, definitely beats how I was a month ago, which is to say: sitting under a blanket on the sofa, watching old reruns of Desperate Housewives (and I haven't watched anything past series 2, so it was all totally bewildering) on E4 and having utterly melodramatic-but-seemingly-realistic-at-the-time thoughts of, 'I will never eat proper meals ever again. I will have to stay at home permenantly and just eat Heinz soup. Will James still want to be with me when all I can eat is Heinz soup?'

I'm curently writing a story (for currently, read: for the last 9 months). It's basically about what if Purgatory was a real place and you were stuck there and had to literally follow the Bible and things. It's great fun and I love writing it (apart from when my brain freezes and I then hate it), but it does mean that I have to read a LOT of the Bible. Some of it is okay, but some of it is just the weirdest shit ever � I have no idea how people can claim that it is the actual Word of God, it's just too deranged. There's a story in Judges about a guy who was seiged by a mob of perverts, who wanted to have sex with his son, and so to protect him the guy offered his daughter and his son's concubine instead. And then the mob grabbed the concubine and raped her all night, and then she crawled back to the guy's house in the morning and he cut her into twelve pieces and sent a piece to each of the twelve tribes of Israel. Later on there's a war, and in true Old Testament style, they slaughter of all of the men and non-virgin women. I mean, why? Why is this horrible bollocks the Word of God? Why?

Finally, to prove to the world that my gran is the most amazing person alive right now, she rang me last night to report that she was all set up on her brand new Kindle (Christmas present from me and my sister), and had already downloaded two books. She's not known as Mave the Rave for nothing.

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