So its the end of the world, as we know it, melodramatic? A tad! So I’m in bed at 10:38, why? Angiogram at St Georges’ Hospital in Tooting to gimme a “who, what, why, where, how” etc. etc. etc. I know all of my 3 adoring fans (mum, dad, sister >.<) are clued up enough, but thank you! All the kind words, thought through… Thoughts And the actions. Some, not a second thought, some pushed to, but all cherished. So I'm in bed, but not sleeping, have this appointment, will hopefully put my mind at ease as seriously, it feels like it's killing me, this whole ordeal is as taxing as it gets, and before this moment I WAS coping, this is getting harder, it's just getting much more like a test I dunno if I'll pass. So if this story ends badly, bar the whole walking unaided, why do I feel recovered?
I mean I'm not wheelchair bound, I don't have blackholes of memory, I still love The Foo Fighters, so what? Hopefully all a formality. If everything is golden, you'll know, I know I'm a joker, but not about that. I joke about the small stuff, this isn't small, hope all you guys know where I come from with my humour. But on a lighter note, Ryan Giggs ey? If true, again a sign of football's decay and fall from grace, even the last real and noble footballer is… Erm… Fake and not-noble? So I better sleep, this whole sleeping and waking up on the same day is weird, I suppose someone has to. I need to buy a bunch of Twix bars while I'm out as well… Remember those? I shall do that after my appointment, and I wish you all well! And hope United beat Barca I suppose!