Goat Stories

I've woken up properly full of snot today. I hate it when overnight your defence system just packs in and gives up. It started a little bit yesterday with the occasional casual sneeze, and some point overnight levelled up into full on cold. Now I've got a few theories on what it might be. There is the chance that its hayfever. The weather outside is lovely, flowers are appearing, this means that while the world is cheering up, pollen is gearing up to ruin the next month or so of my life. I hate hayfever. Its the crappiest of all fevers, trailing miles behind actual fevers like scarlet, yellow, or dance. How pathetic is it that flowers can defeat me? I should not be given itchy eyes and breathing like a short Darth Vader (or Dith Vider as he'd be known) because of some lovely fauna. I also blame the bees. Stupid bees with their pollen knees.


The other option is that I've had a quiet couple of days for the first time in ages and so while i've been resting, my immune system has decided now would be a perfect time to also have a rest. This is not allowed. I'm all for worker's rights but frankly my immune system doesn't have a union and therefore hasn't ever negiotiated with the manager ie me, when it can have its annual leave. No annual leave for you. During its time off it seems to have downloaded the full cold package too including dull headache, achy eyes and general feeling of wanting someone to look after me and bring me soup. If my cold was an MS Office package it would be MS Office Full Of A Shit Pathetic Cold Package.


I went to see Ghost Stories last night at the Lyric Hammersmith and it was supernaturally awesome. I can't say anything about the show itself as you may be going to see it and I'm wary of spoiling anything, but I will tell you that I am definitely a big girl's blouse. What I mean is that it was pretty terrifying and I'd like to state that most people going to see it will be turned into big girl's blouses to the extent that Andy Nyman and Jeremy Dyson could probably just collect the crowd up afterwards and open up their own chain of shops selling outer garments to larger young ladies. I like to think I am not that easily scared. I like to think that, but I'm completely wrong. Last night's show just added to the long list including spiders, people that squint oddly, museums at night and the possibility of the Tory government getting back in. Thing is, compared to some other people at the show last night, I didn't jump or scream as much as they did which surely makes me a bit hella cool. It's also partly because I'm not very good at either jumping or screaming, the former tending to look more like I've tripped over something and the latter sounds a bit like a fox is choking on a rusk. So when I do either of those things its purely involuntary and last night was the first time since seeing the Witching Hour in Edinburgh a few years ago where I've done both.


Jumping and screaming is all ok really as its all done and over with pretty quickly. I left the show feeling perfectly happy with everything and generally buzzing with adrenaline from the show. Then later, the bad mind stuff occurs. I'm now fairly sure my house is filled with ghosts all over the shop and I spent a large portion of last night avoiding the shower curtain (thanks very much The Shining), under the bed (thanks very much er, Beetlejuice? Hmm. Something else maybe) and generally anywhere a ghost could hide. Herein is the problem. Turns out ghosts can hide anywhere which is why you should never play hide-or-seek with apparitions. They will win, even if you have a detector thingy like Ego Spengler. My only away around my vivid imagination is by constantly telling myself I mean to be scared of goats and I just have dyslexic paranoia. Saying that, if my flat was overrun by goats I would also be terrified. They'd eat a lot of my stuff and there's no easy way to get a shedload of goats out of my flat ie no goat cannon, goat transporter, or goat kart. Geddit? Goat Kart? I don't feel well, leave me alone.


And that's where cold theory number 3 comes in. Perhaps its ectoplasm and I've been possessed. In which case I really hope the head spinning and making things float comes soon, I'm getting bored. Go see Ghost Stories if you can still get a ticket. They've got a midnight matinee next Friday which sounds awesome and I'd consider going again if I could. Trust me, its pretty spooktacular. Arf. I'm off to go hug a lemsip.