I was in two minds as to whether I should post this topic which has been gnawing at me for a while. It’s got all the right elements for controversy – mental illness, vitriol, and a rather scathing critique of how it’s all handled in the UK at the moment, both socially and medically – but fuck it, I may as well go all in. Rather than discuss the matter in a clinical generic style (or to put it another way, get all up my own arse about the situation) I shall start by telling you a story.
Last night, the sun was splitting the sky and the sticky hum of humidity was the rallying call for the Scottish summer to make its appearance. It was 25 degrees and the discomfiting heat was a joy to behold in the wake of the typically dreary UK weather. Summer in our country is my favourite day of the year. With that in mind, I felt my attire for a friend’s birthday barbecue (outside! We can sit outside! In SCOTLAND! And it isn’t raining!) should adequately reflect the season and my resulting jubilant disposition.
Or to put it more simply: HOORAY FOR SUMMER AND SUMMER DRESSES!
In the midst of being immersed in the sprawling worlds of Westeros and Essos, I picked up The Rosie Project as a mental respite from my second reread of book five of George R. R. Martin’s A Song Of Ice and Fire series. Giddy, swooping fantasy novels have always been my preference, so it was with some trepidation I picked up Graham Simsion’s cheerful debut. I’d been throroughly recommended it by a number of people, and with a slew of five-star reviews on Amazon, I decided it couldn’t hurt to stop playing the game of thrones for a few hours. Continue reading
My second wordy post comes from work again. I’m on my break and saddled with a crippling hangover after a quiet dinner-and-drinks session with a friend ended up in us being “politely” asked to leave at 1am after four bottles of wine. On a Wednesday night. When we both had work at 9am the next day. I woke up at 7am in blinding sunshine and 25 degree heat to the sound of two cats fighting and my mother shouting at a bee. I took two paracetamol and went to work. The day started as it meant to go on. Continue reading