I have hiccups. I have had hiccups nearly all day. Why does my digestive system fail me? Synchronous diaphragmatic flutters are neither cool nor useful nor friendly. Someone give me a scare. Tell me the Hallamshire's burnt down. Tell me they've stopped making brie. Tell me I'm wearing flat shoes. ANYTHING. Just make them fucking fuck off.

Well, that wasn't the most interesting and informative introduction to the week's cancer happenings. Actually, that's a lie, I've just read an article that says that chemotherapy makes you more susceptible to hiccups so THERE. I need to stop finding all these crappy little extras you get with the whole leukaemia thing, it's like finding little maggots in your apple. I suppose it's not all bad, according to the internet in Indian folklore hiccups mean someone close is thinking about you. I hope it's not a stalker in the garden. Come on, own uppp, whoever you are. I hope you're not thinking about me in an inappropriate way, you perv. I'd better shut up about this now, this isn't Constanze's Sexy Oops-I-Got-Extreme-Fucking-Hiccups-Because-I'm-Being-Fantasised-About-By-Some-Sex-Maniac Blog.

I have been enjoying the two weeks off hospital (woo, party, yeah, fun) by spending money on things I don't need and visitng the Oxford crew. And breaking shoes. I was walking today and in a metter of 0.5 seconds I was wearing 50% less shoes. Anyway, as you can see by the various photos spread out around this post, I enjoyed perhaps a little too much Russian Standard vodka. That's enough drinking now for the next few months. My liver is confused enough as it is without adding vodka that speaks a different language...

... My legs are also very unhappy. They've been worse these past few days than they have been for months. Creak, creak, creak, that's all they bloody do. I spent a great deal of my weekend away in a somwehat horizontal position, like so (I doubt the Russian takeover was helping here, but oh well...)-



My god, I look so dignified in that picture. It's not like my arse is hanging out or anything. What a good way to make a first impression- I met most of Gemma's family with my bottom on full show. Not to mention all that talk about my knickers. I would like to sincerely apologise to all the people I met this weekend who knew my blog, but not me. I must be a terrible disappointment. Not that this blog is up to much, I often wonder how terrible your lives must all be to consider reading all this pleasant (I mean, thanks for reading, it's mucho cool, but it is written by ME, a girl who has been superglued to a table more than once. That Oxford education has really paid off!). It's not like it even teaches you anything about leukaemia, just throat spasms and my taste in cheese. I so need to get endorsed by Le Roule. *crosses fingers that one of the 10,000 hits was by someone with shares in Boursin*

Better shut up now. Have rambled enough for today. Away I go. 5 days of freedom left. Going to try and not spend it like this-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_vVZdKsrWo

See you on Tuesday after general blood stealing and gas breathing!

xXxXx

P.s Sponsor Helen. You know you want to. If you don't, I know where you live. https://www.anthonynolanevents.org.uk/HelenGinn

P.p.s When I grow up I want to be Colin.