Tonsi-shite-is (tonsillitis is shite)

It's just a ruddy good thing that I have this bearded angel who listens to me whine and moan and cuddles me and comforts me and generally makes me feel happy despite the fact that I feel as if my body is declaring a mutiny against my brain. Why body, why? Stupid effing tonsils. For those of you who don't know, I officially have the largest tonsils in all of the South. They are mahusive. So, on a general basis they keep germs at bay and they mean that I rarely get properly ill. Tonsils are like nostril hairs in their function of preventing germ attacks don'tcha know! BUT, when they let their guard slip and the germ invasion manages to cross no man's land, then BOY do I get ill. My tonsils are currently so swollen that I geniunely can't eat anything because when I try to swallow the food bounces back up off of the wall of tonsilly swolleness that has been installed. Gross.

Shindig Ahoy!

Well last night was just lovely wasn't it! I had a bloody good time I must admit. Everyone looked extremely gorgeous. Cor Blimey, what a good-looking bunch. Congratulations to Gina and Andrew who both looked spiffing. Their first dance had us all 'awwwing' with vigour. It was just a brilliant night with brilliant people. So naturally, many fantastically fun things occurred! As usual, I got far too drunk and further tarnished my ongoing efforts to make people believe that I am an intelligent and respectable youth, not at all representative of the typical rowdy teenager of today.

Here is some evidence of 'Too much booze' syndrome:

Mr Woodward and I attempted to stun the crowd with our drunken dancing. It was going well until wobbly heels, flailing limbs and head-butting ensued. Chaos.

I proceeded to tell everyone, and I mean everyone, regardless of their desire to hear it, that "My Nana bought me this dress", "My Nana is so fashionable", "I love my Nana", "My Nana is the best Nana". All true by the way.

I fell down the stairs and landed on the Penroses. Legs akimbo and stick-on boobs threatening to come unstuck at any minute. It was highly embarrassing. I can only offer my deepest apologies and blame it on the heels.

I did my 'leaning-back dance'; a sure sign that the inebriation has gone too far. I get to a point of drunkness where I am certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that my limbo-esque move is possibly the most impressive thing happening in today's society.

During one of my many trips to the loo (I prematurely broke the pee barrier) I took a picture of myself in the mirror and laughed at it for a solid minute. Loser.

My departing comment to the lovely Chapmans as they set off on the walk home was "Don't get raped". The concern was genuine despite the flippant delivery.

And finally, stealing a trolley from Lidl and pushing Alice around the car park in the rain was the most fun ever. Drunken Trolley Dash Extravaganza.

I LOVE PARTIES!