It’s been raining most of the day, but it doesn’t half smell nice outside. Make sure to venture out between the showers to sniff your garden. I find that it’s best to go out wrapped up in a shawl for the full Laura Ingalls Wilder effect. You know, while Pa melts lead at the fire to make his bullets and Ma makes sunbonnets. And the bachelor down the road lies about his age to get a homestead.

While I’ve been away from the blog, I’ve had the joy of a kidney stone passing through my system over the May bank holiday weekend. Oh the agonising pain, the vomiting and haematuria. And then, oh yeeeaahhh, the co-codamol :) I caught a brief glimpse of it the little bastard stone when I passed it. For all the pain it caused, you’d have thought it would have the decency to be 3 foot wide with spikes, but no, it’s just like a little sultana. Bloody sultanas. Drink people, drink! And maybe start buzzing your kidneys with ultrasonic waves every Saturday, just to be on the safe side.

What else has happened? Well, I’ve had my hair cut and I’ve also discovered that Fair Trade fudge is all the devil needs to offer to get me into hell.

I’m going to be trying again for the mobility component of Disability Living Allowance. They’re not big on seeing the difficulties faced by someone with achondroplasia, but the higher rate of the mobility component would give me many further advantages with regards to getting a car adapted etc. The extra money would also be handy for taxis; as handy (and free) as Bazzacabs are, it would be nice not to have to rely on them, or on keeping Suzy sober on a night out (a challenge if ever there was one ;) ) Hmm, better be careful, I shall probably be within whacking distance when she reads this as her modem is bust and so my iMac is her internet access at the minute.

Sam’s running round and round Kent in the “Race for life” on Sunday to raise money for cancer research. So, in my best American accent (and it ain’t good), I’d like to say “you go, girl!”

By the way, you needn’t think I missed the fact that nobody gave me a present on my half-birthday. Not even half a present. Now when the time comes, I shall be bequeathing my worldly goods to a particularly shabby brothel, just to spite you all.