Have Been A Wee Bit Ill...

As it turns out, if you have tonsillitis for four or five days and you don't realise then it really does knock the shit out of you.

I've never had it before in my 31 years, and as such did not know what to look out for. I figured that last wednesday when my throat started to really hurt that it was just the onset of a cold, so I began to swallow lemsip (or non-brand alternatives) by the gallon (or cupful with correctly spaced intervals between). This did very little, besides make the back of my throat be in great pain but with the hint of lemon freshness to amuse the vileness that was knocking six shades of hell out of me.

Naturally I kept going to work, naturally. By Saturday night I was in a rather large amount of unbearable pain and trying to talk had become a comedy exercise in vocal gymnastics. Also, if I'm honest, the prospect of another night of no sleep made me want to vomit from my stomach, so called up NHS Direct and a nice man made me an appointment to pop in to hospital and see a doctor. The Doc was a lovely chap, very gentle, prescribed me with some nasty-away-pills that I've been taking since and seem (fingers knees and toes crossed) to be doing the trick.

Am off work for a couple of days now and am trying to rest up today to let the pills do their thing. Hopefully will get some snapping done tomorrow, but shall see. So for the rest of today, I think the couch and blanket shall be my friends, the tv my only companion as no doubt Gail will shun me when she realises I can't let her chase me around the living room, bless her she is so loving :)

The Bootman Cometh

My feet are warm at last, booted up and as white as the Snow Kings throat which I can now crush under my heel. The other pair, in a gorgeous cherry red, are still missing in the wild. I am confident that they will show up soon. It is perhaps safe to consider bootgate finished, at least for the moment.

It's about two weeks until one of my pictures should be used as the main image of an advert on the front of a newspaper in the local area. Much as I can't wait, I'm not going to believe it until I see it. The shoot for it took place a month ago, some of the shots for it are up on my Flickr (clickr for flickr). Have kept the image that was chosen for the advert off flickr for the time being as it seems more right to wait until it has been published first. No doubt when I see it in all its papery goodness I shall be on here squeeing like a high school girl who just got asked to the prom by the quiet rebel who says so few words but you just know you will be safe within his arms *sighs*...

En-Eee-Whay, what with the shoot having been a month ago I am now itching to do some more. Have spent the last couple of hours editing a couple of the other shots just to keep myself occupied.Mostly playing with the lighting in black and white. Need to shoot more before the withdrawal sets in heavy. Due to work the last few days being so manic still have not managed to get out and do any snow pictures, chances are it will all be gone before I get to go click. Ah well, such is life, if you don't get the picture when you are in the moment then its gone. At least I am prepared for the next time it snows and everything looks fluffy.

Been listening to a lot of "easier" sounds tonight. Had some Cat Stevens on, some James Taylor, Buffalo Springfield, Simon & Garfunkel, Johanna Kurkela, and this which I am particularly fond of right now,

Hopefully listening to this kind of thing will let me sleep a little easier, fingers crossed. Have another two days at the grindstone, and then I can get some rest and try and try and recharge. Getting a good nights sleep would be a good start perhaps. 

Bootgate Continues...

Obviously there is a conspiracy afoot to ensure that my feet are cold and bordering on frost bitten, this is the only answer that perfectly accomodates all the facts at hand, and I know who is responsible.

You see, the boots are still not here, both pairs. The first pair was despatched on saturday, via a postal network of small woodland creatures and hobos if their website is to be believed. Due to their lack of appearance after a few days I purchased a second pair, this time via that last bastion of assured delivery, Amazon Prime. The cost was negligable and easy to justify to myself, after all I can always use two pairs of boots, however they too are stuck out there somewhere. No doubt laughing at me. Them and the Snow King in his white ivoryesque tower of snow, like some kind of melty Mordor watching over us, surrounded by the stolen boots of people who only want comfortable warm feet.

Yes, The Snow King. He is the head of this cold white hydra of a conspiracy (well, one of the heads, the main one, the one that does the talking for the other heads when they go to a drive through for fast food nommynoms). No doubt in league with the neo-political establishment, the military industrial complex, the royalist vanguard, and last but certainly not least, the International union of voice over artists.

But at the head (the main head, as discussed, not one of the lesser heads), The Snow King. Without whom, they cannot function (clearly they are not the best hydra in the world or else not only would they be able to function upon the loss of a head but would infact double that heads efficiancy in the eating of humans. Alright, look maybe hydra was a bad analogy for their organizational structure but it was all I had going at the time, give a guy a break here, I have cold toes for God's sakes!).

With all the power that I can muster I promise you this you snowy bastard, I shall have the last laugh...

*plugs in hair dryer, advances towards door*

...you've had this coming for some time...

And Lo, There Was Yet Another Blog Upon Us...

I present to you a poem, written by my goodly self whilst bored awaiting the delivery of an urgent package.

*Clears throat*

Outside, it is snowing,
   but inside, it is boring,
   and the snowman on the grass,
   is starting to look rather sad.
The heating is on,
   so inside is nice and warm,
   though the cupboards are bare mostly,
   except for a packet of rather dry muesli
I want to go out,
   for a sandwich I think,
   something with bacon, chicken,
   that comes wrapped-shrink
Boots are on their way, 
   but deliveries are slowed,
   been waiting all morning,
   but still no trucks have showed.
I cannot have another day of frozen tootsies,
   with slushy heels,
   inside my old broken bootsies,
   for fear my piggies will number less than when started.
So patient I sit,
   by the frosted window pane,
   wondering where my boots are,
   trapped out there somewhere in the snowy lanes.
My promised white wings of freedom,
   will soon show I hope,
   so sandwiches shall soon be mine,
   in a meal deal,
   purchased with a bottle of coke.
  
Upon completion of this poem and the publishing of this blog post, I should say that the boots have still to arrive. As such I am captive in my own home. I can't really blame anyone other than myself for that, due to a combination of previous poor quality shoe purchase decisions and an increase in shoe size making my delicious fur-lined snow boots obsolete since last winter (Seriously, at my age you would think your shoe size would be a safe bet, but no). No doubt it is a fool who designs their own prison without a means of escape, and today I shall be your fool, I hope you are entertained.

Since this white debacle started people have been posting pictures aplenty on facebook and I have yet to join in their fun. Mark my words, as soon as I get out of this place a plethora of pictures snow will descend from my camera and flickr account (Check the link in my profile if you haven't already :D) that will make the blizzard of 2001 (Or this years model if it supersedes it) look like a mere sprinkling of icing sugar upon a freshly baked cake.

I think I want cake now. Precious, precious, freshly baked cake...

It really would be rather nice if these boots were to show up soon as I would very much like to be out taking pictures. Grumble grumble.