Tag Archives: bacon rolls

On A Roll …

baconFantabulous news: my latest MRI scan shows no new lesions.

The new neuro I saw said I was experiencing ‘paroxysms’ of MS. Not heard before, so I did what most of us do and googled it when I got home.

In other news, life continues as normal:

  • My once semi-eloquent speech is still garbled and unintentionally hilarious.
  • My brand new suede boots are scuffed beyond repair after stumbling all over the place and now join the graveyard of other similarly-afflicted boots.
  • I have an ever-expanding collection of spectacular bruises from arguing with walls/bannisters/the shower.
  • I brighten up the boss’s day, every day, with my slapstick moves. Who needs a banana skin when I’m around?
  • I’m still single, and after a terrifying, tentative foray into online dating, I will probably remain so until at least 2073 (if I live to be 100).
  • I refuse¬†am reluctant to squeeze myself into a tubi-dress and have hair extensions just to take ten years off my age. I wish.
  • I still love bacon butties in work. A habit I am attempting to break with the purchase of a Nutri-Bullet.

Anyway, apart from the usual MS gaffes, The Teenager is in the midst of GCSE Angst. Being a dutiful parent, I’ve ordered him his entire Amazon wish-list. An expensive mistake.

Along with the study notes, the revision books and the pens, he had to absolutely, totally, definitely have a Breaking Bad notebook which would of course ensure top marks in all subjects. They were all delivered yesterday and remain in a pristine package on the IKEA desk I painstakingly put together.

‘How’s your notes going?’


‘Oh, um, lovely. Anything I can help with?’

‘Fed up wiv ‘elfy cereal, can I have Coco-Pops?’

‘Oh. Too much sugar?’

‘Never enough.’

‘Ha, that’s funny!’

‘Seriously. D’urrrr. And close the door behind you and take the kitten with you, ta?’

Oh, ok. I retreated and gathered up the laundry. And the kitten and her bizarre collection of hair bands.

So. My scan says I’m fine. I don’t feel fine. What should I do? How long do paroxysms last? Can I take a chance and buy a new pair of boots that I won’t scuff? And most importantly, will I stop speaking English with a German/Yoda-esque syntax?

‘Study, you will. Much learning achieve, aspire you can. Dark forces, encounter, you could. Succeed!’

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