Still on the bog

I can’t help but laugh about the fact that, while my fellow bloggers write about fabulously expensive clothes, trendy openings, launches and cosmopolitan lifestyles I am blogging about having the sh*ts in a backpackers’ hostel in Mexico. Where is the glamour, Robinson? You rotten munter! Could you not at least pretend that you’re wearing expensive high heels as you charge to the bog, swearing and yelling? Could you not, I dunno, give yourself a must-have manicure during your hours of isolation in the sanitario?

Nope. I could not. I am a rotten munter and that’s all there is to it. I’m wearing a dress that cost £2.50 in Primark. (Which in itself is disgusting.) I have a little bit of varnish left on my toenails and it will stay there until it falls off and then I will look like every other skanky backpacker in the world. My toiletries live in a Tesco bag-for-life and, within them, my luxury item was a roll of dental floss. And… and, and and: AND I AM STILL ON THE BOG.

I am a little disappointed in myself.

Although that’s probably unfair. A backpacker is a backpacker however glamorous they might be in their normal lives. (Although really, I’m not much better, truth be told.) But I’m certainly disappointed in my immune system. In a fight with a feather, I think it would have the crap beaten out of it. I feel like 80% of my recent blogs have concerned my bowel functions or skin infestations. It is not pleasant and I am sorry.

But never mind. I’m awash with antibiotics and probiotics and a vast range of witch-doctory potions that will make me healthy and beautiful and glamorous. Something will change soon; even if that something is The Man taking the understandable decision to terminate our relationship. (The things he has encountered during my malady should not be encountered at any stage in a relationship, let alone in the first year. I shudder to think how he must view me now.)

Nay, I shall not dwell on my bog-dwelling any longer because I have far more exciting things to report.

Number one: our friends have arrived! Oh, that was exciting only to us. Sorry.

Number two: I am super-thin! No, hang on, that is because I am super-sick and stuck to the bog.

Number three: I have seen the cover for my first ever book! It’s mega! I tell you, when I finally see that thing in my hands looking like a proper book I will probably be straight back on the toilet. The excitement will be quite overwhelming.

Number four: My website is live! Designed by my extremely clever designer-duo friends, I think it is a thing of great beauty and even though I had no part whatsoever in its creation (except for weeks of vague and unhelpful feedback) I still feel very proud. Go and have a look and maybe even a Like, if you like it:www.lucy-robinson.co.uk

Number five: Since commencing this blog twenty four hours ago, I have actually witnessed an about turn in my health. The possibility of being well again is almost too exciting to stomach! I might be able to go and explore again! Eat exotic foods! Dance in the moonlight! Or, er, perhaps write a few more chapters of my book. (I should point out that I have not been writing this piece of scatological nonsense for the preceding twenty four hours.)

Number six: I am going to be a bridesmaid! Finally! At the age of 31! Now, granted, I was unofficial best woman at my best friend’s super-beautiful wedding a few weeks ago and so I cannot claim that I have been forever overlooked.  But, to be able to rearrange a dear friend’s veil and make sure their hair is perfect for the photos and follow her up the aisle in a peach satin horror of a dress and spend the night fending off amorous advances from the best man who is so drunk that he thinks it’s fun to tuck his testicles out of his fly on the dance floor… WOW! I can’t wait!

(Claire, if you’re reading, I am sure you will know that I am joking. I am absolutely thrilled and quite sure that your wedding will not involve peach satin or testicles.)

So, lots to be joyous about. I hope things are joyous back in the Kingdom of Britain and I send frozen margaritas to all. X

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