Well. The title says it all, really. I’ve had a pretty crap week.

It all started last Friday, when, after our night out, I felt a bit scuzzy. As I told Katy and Emily. In fact, I may have said ‘I feel like a scuzz-bomb. I’ll explode in a minute, and there’ll just be brown, furry liquid everywhere’. Yes. Scuzz is a brown, furry liquid.

So anyway, Friday night, helping at club as per usual. Bit of a crap night, dodgy music and annoyingly pathetic little kids, including a girl who looked about 6, was about 3ft tall and seemed to think I would be scared of her. I went to Elgar, for god’s sake! Anyway, end of the night, bit of a headache. Nothing odd in that really, but it had that feeling of a headache that’s gonna get a whole lot worse. And boy, did it get worse!

Saturday morning, up for work as usual. Sore throat. Oh, great, me thinks, for the next day I was going to Cornwall with my dearest friend Kim. So, I go to work, throat sore. And then, all morning, I just get colder and colder and colder. Like, to the point of shivering. I mentioned it to someone else, they’re not cold. Everyone is apparently quite warm and toasty, whereas I am dithering, and helpfully wearing shorts and flip-flops. So, I go to lunch, desperately buy some straighteners (because mine are at Chelsea’s, and I needed some for Cornwall). I’m curled up in the chair, with my coat on top of me, Laura cheering me up. But I went back down and the coldness came back…twice as bad. I borrowed a cardi, but it didn’t help, so, I think it was about an hour later, I came home. After the obligitory ten minute wait for Dad to pick me up, the one where he appears just as you’re getting the phone out to marvel at the fact it’s taken him 10 minutes longer than it would’ve taken anyone else, and start to ring home to check he’s actually left. But, anyway. I came home.

And I went to bed. Absolutely shivering. Mum woke me up about 6. I went back to sleep. I basically slept all day. But not the nice, warm kind of sleep. The nasty, ill, nightmarish, half-awake sort of sleep. I think I did get up about 9pm. I’m not sure. I can’t remember. I pretty much slept through Sunday, despite my Mum’s attempts to send me to Cornwall. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be. I could barely sit-up, let alone think about going on holiday. So that was bum.

Monday, I went to the doctors. Tonsilitis. It was kinda obvious. Most people get a big of a white lump on their tonsil. I had this huge, stonking growth of a thing coming out the side of my throat, and my glands were majorly swollen. So I saw the nice doctor, who gave me some tablets. Now, you can tell I was ill, ‘cos it really didn’t bother me. And I have issues with taking paracetamol, let alone anything else. But, I just didn’t care.

I then pretty much slept until Wednesday, other than the odd toilet-trip, and the occasional foray downstairs to the settee (with blankets and pillows, obviously). Yesterday was boring, but I did almost get dressed. Today, the same. Coming on the computer tonight is the most energetic thing I’ve done since last Saturday. So, yes. I’m bored. And fed up ‘cos I should’ve had a week(ish) in Cornwall with Kim. And I can’t go and get Harry Potter and midnight, as planned. And I’ll never get the chance to do it again. ‘Cos it’s the last bloody book! So…NYARGH! I’m really not too pleased at the moment.

So there we go. Really not the best week of my life.