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squinty 
My first week at work completed. I surprised myself. I was expecting to be planning escape routes, finding reasons to leave early, sourcing hiding places for tots of whiskey and emergency chocolate. To my utter shock I found that I was able to partake in my favourite past time whilst being paid. I had regular bouts of hysterics (and not the unhappy, smudged make up, pulling hair out kind). I had forgotten that real people and not only Russell Brand or Eddie Izzard are able to make me bend double.
So this weekend, having done one of those 5 day weeks that I have heard legend of I felt totally justified in returning to loaf-dom. Previously my lolling on the bed with a library of vengeful DVDs playing continuously throughout the day, lying in a nest of magazines and books and permitting myself to nap like a fifteen year old goth on his summer holidays felt just a little bit uncomfortable. I felt the odd wince of pain as I recalled all the things I ought to be doing. I wrote lists that I knew would be used only as bookmarks.
Now having spent 40 hours wincing in an theatre at different things that needed to be done I had to turn off my guilt valve and wallow in luxurious nothing.
I’m becoming a dirty old woman though.
Athletics is on TV and where once I wouldn’t have been that interested now I ogle like a farmer at an auction.
