Ever had a really bad toothache?
I'm talking the kind of toothache that makes you pace up and down for several hours with a bottle of whiskey in one hand, a pair of pliers in the other, a mouthful of paracetamol and a bag of Bird's Eye frozen peas strapped to your face.
Welcome to my world.
Yesterday, my (soon to be sold to a taxidermist) darling son decided it was imperative some indoor cricket practice take place. He announced his intentions by launching a cricket ball at my face with total disregard for his usual inability to hit anything in the northern hemisphere.
Result - Dad on hands and knees spitting blood and bits of broken teeth all over recently cleaned carpets.
Certainly took my mind off the cravings, but fixed it firmly on thoughts of murder.
On the bright side, smoking has been the last thing on my mind, and am still on wagon. Have come off the Champix again, have distinct feeling that light at the end of the tunnel is a little brighter.
Report from hospital, missus getting stronger but meds making her feel sick.
onwards and upwards