Nine Ladies Dancing

Well, nine other ladies may be dancing somewhere and hopefully my friend Anne is one of them. Happy Birthday Anne, I know you couldn't have danced this time last year.

I, on the other hand, got up and felt ill. Because my answer to feeling ill is usually to have a walk, I went out in my wellies like a sick duck in the torrential rain. I did indeed start to feel less crook, until I caught myself standing in a large puddle/small lake, well, more paddling really and there were real ducks doing the same. Ok, perhaps not actual ducks but seabirds at any rate.
I wished I had one of those bright yellow sou'westers.

When I got home and stopped walking I immediately felt dizzy and sick again. Gillian McKeith was on TV showing us what we shouldn't do or eat in order to detox for the New Year. According to Gillian, poor diet is costing the (British) NHS four times as much as smoking. But mostly I just have some deep-seated desire to please her, which is odd, because Gillian could never know whether or not I am following her instructions.

When she showed us what went into processed meat I could feel my innards rebelling. A little later I thought of what she'd shown us and threw up, so that seemed to be the time to go to bed and sleep, hopefully not to dream.
I woke up and Justin and Colin were transforming someone's bedroom with lavender stripes, God bless you boys, far quieter than green and red plaid.
The next time I awoke, Gerald Ford was being buried. I really wanted to worship Hillary, but all I could see was her hair behind Bill.

Later, when I felt better, I looked up what the Sisters of Perpetual Motion must have told Sleepy about the nine ladies dancing, and it turns out they refer to the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit. I realised that I only felt marginally better since my mind went immediately to the over-squishy kiwi fruit in the fruit bowl.

If you want some short but enjoyable reading, check out yesterday's Guardian's five 'First Person' stories. All different, all a good read and all thought provoking.