In My Bedroom In Those Ugly New Houses

Paper stripped, holes filled, filler sanded, manky carpet lifted, blah-de-blah-de-blah.  Chris, the painter, arrived, we're on our way!  

In other news, I had a GP appointment about my BP medication.   The results of Monday's blood test - I DID IT by the way, did I mention? - are in.   I'd really like it if Dermot O'Leary could read them out, that would be good eh?   Seems that, apart from the obvious, I'm in pretty good nick.  I think that's irony.  



Paint A Vulgar Picture, The Smiths, 1987