Today largely the same. When I woke up, I just wanted to lie there weeping all day. I forced myself out into the bleak, chilly park, and did my exercisey stuff. though. It did help slightly. I felt perkier when I'd done it.
TROY plods lamely on. I can't decide if Helen reminds me more of MIllania Trump or Posh Spice.
GOMORRA is a winner, though; plenty of rockem-sockem violence,gore and sleazy atmosphere. I like old Pietro.
I ran into that old lady who fought the NHS for years to get her 'apron' of loose flesh removed, and finally had the op a few months ago. She says the pain afterwards was the worst EVAH , worse than giving birth or having impacted wisdom teeth. It took ages to heal, too. When they yank all the pins out, 'You could've heard me at Clapham Junction', and she still has to wear a band around her middle for a while. Also, she has no bellybutton, now.
Yetch. I've pretty much gone off the idea now, although she reckons it was worth it despite the horrors. She got it 'free' though, and I simply don't have the £7,000 or so I'd need to go privately.