Heaven alone knows what mistakes you'll find in todays blog - you'll just have to read it as best you can. And feel sorry for me.

I’ve been poorly, of course I don’t expect any sympathy – I know better than that. And I did soldier on – I’m a woman after all. It started on Monday night with a headache. No, not a hang over, I was driving. I don’t drink and drive – not even one glass. Mainly because alcohol goes straight to my head, even the one glass affects me.

Unfortunately, when I got home I had a run in with Parent; who’d been in and out all night asking Himself when I was going to be home, Himself had told him whenever I was ready and to basically mind his own business. If I wanted him, I’d ring, he said. That didn’t go down well.

Cut to the chase, I had one hell of an argument when I returned home and Parent got verbally abusive. Parent was put very firmly in his place – and didn’t like it. He tried the ‘you should tell someone what time you’re going to be home when you go out’, for someone read father. I think not. I won’t go into the ins and outs of it but Parent has been on a sharp learning curve over the last six months. Partly it’s my fault – the depression meant that for years I only really left the house to go to work and shopping, I was at his beck and call all of the time.

I’m now well on the way to enjoying life again, and I’m afraid it’s come as a bit of a shock to his system. He could write a book on emotional blackmail. That makes him out to be horrible and he isn’t. It’s a generation thing and he doesn’t mean it that way; he’d give me his last penny and I know that he loves me and wants what is best for me. He’s just taking a while to adapt to the new me that’s all.

But unfortunately, it upsets me every time. I can’t help it - it’s just the way I am. I’ll stand up for myself now but it comes at a cost. So I shut the door between house and flat. Himself goes potty when this happens and I have to keep him away from parent – it wouldn’t help matters, but that puts added pressure on me. So I wandered upstairs to the computer (satisfied now? – Gods, once a beta, always a beta) and went looking for Scally . I then cried on her shoulder and made her soggy. Soaked to the skin, she was.

I thought the headache was part of the upset. Scally allowed me the following morning of pity and then gave me a swift kick – I was just getting into the maudlin and hard done by bit as well. She can be a right spoil sport. Father apologised when I got home after work and I thought the headache would go. It didn’t – it carried on regardless and sickness decided to join in yesterday afternoon. So I went home, went to bed and got up this morning feeling better.

++++

And it’s a bloody good job too – because that sly, under-handed, devious, Leprechaun has been at it again! I turn my back for five minutes and find that it’s trying to win the readership over with cakes, buns and tray bakes. I wouldn’t mind, but she’s not left any for me.

I bet Scally got some or the ‘Scary One’, as she refers to her. I just hope that Scally knows what she’s up to, that's all. For those that don’t know, Scally writes stories too – she doesn’t post them openly on the web, just certain places. Which is a crying shame because she’s a bloody good writer and her stories rock. Yes, I’m a fully paid up member of her fan club. The world is missing out. So the Leprechaun is creeping; she thinks that she can endear herself to the Scary One and get sent another of her stories.

And I warned you all yesterday about the cakes, didn’t I? I’m sure that I don’t need to go to such levels for you to recognise the truth and that I’m the injured party in all of this. What? Well I’ve a packet of mints in the back of the drawer; they’re still edible if you give them a quick rub over with a tissue.


And the Leprechaun had better get her finger out and do her corrections, never mind cooking, because this weekend I’m updating. The web page address will be the same, I can’t be arsed to try and change it with tripod, but we needed a joint name. Once again the Leprechaun sat there, stuffing her face with sweeties, and let me do all the work. The lazy toad. We’ve decided on Ad Fundum. I thought it was funny, it appealed to my sense of humour for a start and for once the Leprechaun agreed with me.