I'm having great difficulty getting Amazy to take her antibiotic. She's a bit better, but still pissing blood.
Wednesday update: No, she wasn't enough better, as she should have been pissing normally after three days on the tablets. A lot of insanely expensive investigation looms before we even get a firm diagnosis. Why meeeeee? (Why her, for that matter? Such a sweet, affectionate critter...)
Watched BIRDMAN which was excellent. It's a well acted, clever tragicomedy, with great New York Theatreland atmosphere.
Apparently it was filmed in the St. James, so looks completely convincing. Why do ALL theatres seem to have that gloomy, grubby, yet homely, backstage ambiance? BTW, I've always thought Michael Keaton had quite a sexy mouth. I don't fancy him, just his mouth. Does that make me a fetishist?
My bloody thumbs are hurting like blazes, with the arthur-itis. My drawing 'skills' have deteriorated enough without his.
My bad leg's really frelled, too.
Did manage to drag myself to choir and have a rasp last night, although all I want to do is sit in front of the Fool's Lantern, and doze, with the odd break to shake my fist at the indifferent heavens. Things are so shite, and I'm relatively lucky; such dreadful stuff seems to be happening to nearly everyone, everywhere. Snivel.