Neutral. That’s what I like. The best colour to decorate your house? Magnolia. The finest colour knitwear? Beige. Neutral colours go with everything and beige cardigans and jumpers have been a constant in my wardrobe for years. They bring me comfort, warmth, familiarity. Apparently though, they don’t bring me an air of excitement because they make me seem as if I’ve given up.

It’s got the stage where I am now harassed for wearing derivatives of beige.

There was a beige woman who lived in a beige house, she ate beige food and dreamt beige dreams.

With this in mind, I feel forced to explore different hues and inject my life with some colour. During my youth, I relied heavily on navy blue, but I fear that this too is one of those colours that screams lack of adventure, a willingness to hide in the shadows and not be seen, which is fine with me because I’m more than happy to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Reds and greens should be preserved for traffic lights.

Yellows and oranges are for those of a sunnier disposition, people who like juggling and world music… and French foreign exchange students.

What does that leave? Purple? Fine if you’re a Goth.

Pink? Not with my pasty complexion.

I’m running out of colours. What are they again?

Red, orange, yellow, green, indigo, violet

I suppose I could dress in the colours of the rainbow and look like a children’s TV presenter. Or maybe a vibrant check, with dungarees, and a tool belt.

This isn’t going to be easy and make take me until my hair has turned grey, which would then require a whole new rethink on the matter.

I can see this whole dilemma ending up with me being arrested for going on the rampage in Marks and Spencer. Overwhelmed and confused by colours, my brain fuses and I end up running blind amongst the knitwear, shouting “RICHARD OF YORK GAVE BATTLE IN FUCKING VAIN”.

Maybe maroon might be a safe colour to start with.

Of course, I’m focusing on knitwear here. I’m not sure whether people have a problem with my colour of knitwear or the fact that I’m so reliant on it. My reliance on knitwear stems from a desire to show as little of myself as possible and to stay warm in this bloody freezing country of ours.

Sinusotomy
I’ve been struggling with my passages since December. The problem is usually dealt with after about half an hour of expelling generous amounts of blood and gore through my nostrils when I first wake up in the morning. Some days this clearing of my tubes comes too late to prevent a killer headache that rapidly takes on migraine qualities and renders me useless for an entire day. Once it reaches this point, my pathetic constitution shuts down completely such that I daren’t even take water or tablets since my stomach just rejects all incursions and returns them from whence they came.

There’s only one thing for it: a Sinuclens washout. This is essentially pouring a warm solution of baking soda into your nasal passages and clearing out any irritants that are lurking there. Unfortunately, I don’t think it will be particularly effective against the nose tumour that went undetected when I had my chest x-ray the other month.

People may take away my beige knitwear, but nothing can take away my sunny disposition.