420: A Pain

My back hurt so much on the bus home today that I was one more stop away from lying on the sticky floor crying into a carrier bag. The more it hurt the more I slouched, and the more I slouched the more it hurt, until my top half was almost formed into a tight fist of aches and pains. When I got home I managed to do a small amount of my chores before stretching face down on the bed and attempting to force a few splinters and shards out of my spinal column, by twisting in all sorts of unnatural positions. 

Eventually I was subjected with a much needed sort-of brutal assault / improvised shiatsu massage. It hurt but I was ordered to relax, and my spine cracked loudly, and the weakling child lower back muscles put up a very poor fight before giving up gloriously. Eventually I seemed to be out of pain, and relaxed. A valuable experience, but now I absolutely must be manipulated in such a fashion on a daily basis. In payment for this blog you are reading you are required to come to my home and massage me. Just once, is all I ask; is that too much? You would be doing a public service, but forget about that; I'm not bothered about public services and such crap as that, I just want an ache-free skeletal-muscular system.

Now that's sorted, is there any other business? Nothing today, I'm just half-reading my way through some recent Comment is Free pieces. It's like this blog except its usually (but not always) better written, contributed to by a wide variety of people who are paid for their services, commissioned to give their thoughts on a subject they have some sort of special interest or knowledge about. If I can't think of anything to write, I still have to give it a go, but most of the real-deal stuff in CiF is by people who have given at least a few moments of prior thought before committing words to page. I'm pretty sure they will read through it a few times, and draft and redraft before sending to the editor, and then maybe the editor checks over it a bit too, I don't know. Point is it's a bit more polished. Also since it is The Guardian and not The Telegraph or The Mail it rarely has opinions by anyone desperately stupid, hateful, willfully ignorant, or just plain unpleasant. It does have some crap, but then it wouldn't be worth commenting if it didn't. Psh, I'm even boring myself.

I'm making beef, beer and seasonal root vegetable stew for tea tomorrow. Prepping it before work and sticking it in the slow cooker, on the lowest setting, which will take about 10-12 hours. When we get in from work the flat will smell delicious and there will be a big pot of similarly wonderful tasting stew. I will then eat the stew. I will then lie down and wait for the first of you to turn up and massage me. Happy days