Apparently she was dreaming about Frank Lampard the other night whilst she was away on holiday. Then we're watching that advert with the Chelsea players arsing about in suits and she says 'there's my Frank there', 'No, that's John Terry you daft mare'. FFS. Women and football. Just doesn't go.
So, I'm back from my jollies in not so sunny Majorca.
First day was glorious. I even fell asleep on my sun lounger. Bad mistake. Sunstroke.
That lasted from the Thursday afternoon until Saturday night. I woke up Sunday morning with an even worse pain. I'd gotten an infection in my gums where my Wisdom Tooth had forced it's ill-timed self through.
Considering it was an all-inclusive holiday too, that we'd paid £900 for, I couldn't eat the lovely spread. Or drink the god like San Miguel.
For the remaining 4 days of the holiday, I was a complete wreck. No sleep. No food. Fuck all.
Arrived back in Manchester on the Thursday morning and went to the dental hospital, as I'd not been to my dentist since 2005...and they'd removed me from their practice. The dental hospital couldn't see me on the Thursday, as it's a first come first served process. So all the immigrants had gotten there before me. So, I went back on Friday morning. Queued up from 7am. Was seen to around 9am. Been given antibiotics and was booked in to had the bugger taken out next Monday.