[Title, which was suggested by Obi Vin when I asked has very little to do with the post. Or nothing But then, I couldnt think what post it was ever going to have anything to do with. Oh, apart from telling you all about that time that I tried to get the other technicians in the backstage crew I was working on at the time to call me Captain rather than the other slightly less flattering nickname they had given me, and it nearly worked. But I think Ive already written about that, so since I really liked the title, I thought Id just assign it to something random]
I have been accused in comments of, and due to, the post below, of being rather wussy when it comes to illness. And, in fact, of suffering man-flu worse than any man. I will not deny I have a rather, shall we say dramatic approach to everything illness, and may, some might suggest, tend to blow things up rather out of proportion for effect/to keep myself entertained.
And so it was a few weeks ago when I pretty much convinced myself that I might well be terminally ill.
I could make a much longer story out of it, but think it is probably well enough summed up in the twitter I made on the subject.
Trying to work out if I have a spot in my armpit or breast cancer. If it ISNT a spot, I may have just discovered that cancer is squeezable. 12:51 AM from web
Man flu? Me? You aint heard nuffink, sweetheart.
It wasnt, by the way.
Like I even needed to tell you
But still, imagine the medical breakthrough it would have been if I HAD discovered that!