Sorry, Dear Reader, for such a prolonged absence.
It turns out that the remaining half of my thyroid gland (the other half retired to an incinerator in Hammersmith hospital years ago) has been, like an inadequately viagra’d octagenarian, been pumping away to diminishing returns. I’m glad the doctor spotted it (albeit very eventually) because I was starting to think it was normal to cry at adverts and regret waking up. Also, my arse had started to look like a reflection in a fun house mirror.
Oddly enough too, I became scared to leave the house without ventolin. I gave a talk to a lovely bunch of people at SitP Oxford, all the time wondering if I was going to keel over of hypoxia. It turns out that there may well be a link between asthma and hypothyroidism in some people.
My new familiar got the blame for the allergies/asthma (she moved in five weeks ago), and was on the verge of being sent back on the same broomstick she rode in on.
However, since the thyroxine dose has gone up (by a lot, BTW), the asthma, the extra weight & the bleak outlook have largely gone. In just three weeks! The cat has stayed.
So enough of excuses. The blog has recommenced!
Last night, a group of Jack of Kent's supporters went to Church House, Westminster for the announcement of the 'Orwell Prize' awarded for political writing.
For those of you who have been on Sabbatical to the moon, Jack of Kent was shortlisted in the 'blogging' section, along with Hopi Sen, Laurie Penny, Madam Miaow , Tim Marshall and Winston Smith
Despite all our crossed fingers (do you know, I don't think that works) Jack didn't win. But I know I'm not the only one who thinks he did brilliantly to get as far as the shortlist. Here are a couple of piccies.
BTW, the winners were:
Book: Andrea Gillies 'Keeper'
Journalism: Peter Hitchens of the Mail on Sunday
Blogging: Winston Smith
New post on Botox on the boil - keep visiting. J x