Bar humbug

So this morning, as I'm coughing my guts out once more thanks to this stupid cold, and too many jingle cigs, my back decides to take a new turn, this time totally to the west. I mean, what's going on? Really. It's been about 5 episodes in the space of so many months, I'm going spare. I'm now seriously considering getting a walking stick.

So I'm blundering through my 3 1/2 hour meeting this morning, blundering through my afternoon, high on Nurofen plus and just a little giddy from the deep heat packs all over my back. It's a pleasant experience, almost like being slow roasted with dry ice. And the sad thing is, I don't evoke any sympathy from anyone anymore because it's happened so often. Like the little boy who cried kimmy.

I had another meeting this afternoon, actually, a teleconfrence with some lovely ladies in Hollywood (negotiating my 7 figure pay packet for my latest movie deal) and thankfully the meeting was in Notting hill so I was able to basically walk home. Which is great. But I really needed to go into town because

1. I needed to go Christmas Shopping
2. I was meeting Peter Paul and Scotty for mulled wine at Covent Garden.....

But instead, I am now resting my back, sitting at home waiting for Peter to get home, blogging and chatting to guys on Gaydar ( I only have a profile because the guy on the entry page is just totally hot) and what do i hear from downstairs but friggin CAROLLERS.

Like, a choir.

All of a sudden it felt like christmas and more overwhelming than the fact that i havn't even bought one present yet, was the fact that I felt like I was in Home Alone 4 and some middle aged MacCauley Culkin was going to ring the bell.

And then the bell rang.

I ran and hid in the toilet.