Another weekend, another wedding and another heap of insanity. This time it was the wedding of Miss Gemma Pouncy, law extraordinaire by day and hypnotic dancer by night (that makes her sound like a lap dancer, I just mean that she has epic moves, SORRY) in a place so rural that even a girl from Derbyshire felt lost. I was so far South that I could feel the equator tickling my legs. Nearly. But yes, much enjoyment was had, even when I had several disagreements with a mysteriously placed toilet table (before you say anything, I wasn't drunk, I'm just not used to these crazy Southern furnitures). Above you can see me with two of my highest quality ladyfriends and below you can see me with the lovely bride. Who I have an official PERV PERMIT for. Yeah boizzz.
What beauties. Oh, and this is me re-enacting some Shakespeare. Or something. Why am I always on the floor? I seem to remember being quite grassy for the whole furore of an event, perhaps I'm actually a cow. Or a confused koala. ANSWERS ON A POSTCARD TENNIS BALLS.
The tiredness now though... It's insane. I like to pretend it's not a problem but it is a problem, I fell asleep on the train today and woke up with the imprint of a tray on my face. And it's not like there's anything I can do, I've tried all the hints and all the tips and every this and that but it's just a thing that will never go away. Certainly not while I'm still chomping down the Dasatinib anyway. I feel like I need a Hundred Year's Sleep. Genghis Khan at my front door couldn't stop me from sleeping myself to the stars this evening, you can bang all the pots and pans you want but my blood has completely up and left and is currently paddling in the Yellow Sea. There's a line in a song that says I spend most of my days neither sleeping or awake and that summarises it perfectly. I'm like an overexcited zombie, dozing from one place to another, intermittently spilling pastry down myself. I would give anything for some energy. If only I could just break some pots and some hearts would appear...
...I think my croissants are burning. I am not a deep person.
But before I go I need to tell you a little story about a fellow leukaemia battler. In the beginning there were three musketeers. There was me, there was Jamie and there was Dan. As we know the wonderful Jamie sadly went to weld and chat up angels in heaven a couple of years ago but Dan and I went on the steady road to recovery. However, a dice was thrown and Dan's leukaemia has come back with an extremely grumpy vengeance and he was told that there was nothing more the doctors could do. However, his family have done some research and they've found some medical centers abroad that might be able to help so they're fundraising to try and get him to the USA. Dan's a very cool guy (yeah, Constanze approved) and he's one of those people that if you were dishing out cancer you'd give it to him last. So if you have any spare money it would be very greatly appreciated by him and his family!
You can read all about it and find out how to make a donation here:
www.facebook.com/LeukaemiaLymphomaHub
You know you want to. Porthos doesn't want to be the last one standing.
Night night,
Constanze :) xXx
No comments:
Post a Comment
Aha! You have a thought!