I’ve got an airing cupboard, I don’t need Jesus, whatever that is.

Because I’ve got an airing cupboard, I’m experiencing the luxury of warm pyjamas. I’m also experiencing the luxury of a warm bed, courtesy of my electric blanket. I don’t think either of these luxuries were mentioned in the bible, so to some evangelical types, they might be a sin. If all that worries some people is their extrapolations, hang on, interpolations, of how we should behave in the 21st century from things that weren’t mentioned in a book of fairytales written from hearsay and translated by people with no knowledge of the language to suit the rulers of the times over many centuries, then it’s clear that our mental health services are very much in crisis.

I wonder how future generations will interpret His Dark Materials in centuries to come. They might be seen as documentations of humankind’s release from the shackles of religious doctrine. I’d hope that they’d be taken as a pretty good trilogy of fictional work.

Sausages
One thing I miss most about not going to Derbyshire anymore is my sausage supply from the village butcher in Crich. They were LOVELY, probably still are, but it’s a bit out of the way to travel just for pork products.

I must find a good butcher; my reliance on branded sausages that you can buy at the supermarket it shameful and unsatisfactory. Tonight’s dinner was roasted veggies with sausages and onion gravy. Roasted parsnip, carrot and beetroot with olive oil, sea salt and chilli – delish, but the sausages let the whole thing down.

I suppose my sausage disappointment puts the whole impending armageddon into perspective. It’s clear to me that North Korea has finally cracked because pie boy isn’t getting quality sausages. Derbyshire should send a drone over there for an emergency sausage drop to ease the mood. Then again, the whole thing might get misconstrued as an act of aggression and the Dales could get nuked.

Ah well. Oops.

Sociable
I have to be vivacious tomorrow. This will be good for me, I’m sure of it. I’m off into the big city for a birthday celebration at the place where, of all places, I met the person who I hope will get nuked in Cromford. Stop it. I’ve no idea how many people will be there; I don’t think I’ll know any of them. This means that I have to be nice. For fuck’s sake.

Socialising with people who are used to me is great. They’re comfortable with my little quirks and I enjoy them taking the piss out of me. I can live in Tina world and come out with whatever rubbish blurts out and I know they won’t be offended because they know that deep down, I’m a kind soul with a strange brain. Strangers are different. Strangers bring stress. They don’t say stranger danger for nothing!

Added to this “Oh balls, I need to meet new people” is the “should I have a drink?” dilemma. Things were great when I was teetotal, I didn’t drink and that was it, but now I’ve gone and ruined all that by allowing myself the option again. If I don’t drink, would I feel that I ought to give people a lift into Manchester? If I do drink, will I make a tit of myself? This is all complicated by the fact that a bunch of us are meeting up at my sister’s and then travelling into town.

This whole thing is causing me stupid amounts of stress. It’s ridiculous that a social butterfly like me, somebody who is so at ease with themselves, should be undergoing this anxiety.

And I’ve no idea what I’m going to wear or what to choose from the menu, which I’ve obviously already studied extensively.

What would CBT Tina say?

I like CBT Tina. I wish I could be more like her.

A pig shat in my head
With tomorrow well under way, I’m still suffering from a headache that started in the early hours of today, or was it yesterday? Whatever. It’s emanating from my neck, into my ear and into my head. I think the only thing for it is an early night, lots of water and a good night’s sleep.

Unfortunately, it’s now 1.40am, I’ve had four bottles of beer, and the little dog will have me awake within seven hours. Added to this is a compulsion to read up on the crimes of Ted Bundy. Things aren’t looking good for a productive day tomorrow/today/whatever.

CBT Tina is very disappointed in me right now. I’d better go before she starts shaking her head and wagging her finger at me again. Bitch.