I am a gladiator- grrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!

Hello one, hello all - this may be my last post as I feel as if I'm going to die.

My old friend "Gordon" and his "Bombay Sapphire" featured quite heavily in my evening last night and now I feel as if my stomach has been through a mangle and my head trapped in a car door.

I'm currently recovering at my parents' having just driven my mum to M&S for the third time this weekend (trainer boy gave me a 20% off everything voucher that one of his clients gave him that was valid for the whole weekend and my mum's been in a shopping frenzy. She even bought organic M&S caster sugar for this week's attempt at a pavlova after last week's tango meringue.)

I am feeling quite a few pounds lighter too but not through weight loss, through flippin shopping. As soon as that voucher was in my hand I was down there like a shot buying up almost all of their "limited collection" and doing a little happy dance as I managed to get into size six shorts which mean my feet and my bum are the same size - wahey!!!!

I had a slight panic on the motorway on the way back as I was just changing lanes and out of nowhere came this bright orange Sainsbury's carrier bag. It blew up in the air and attached itself right in front of my face on the windscreen. I couldn't see a thing and felt like I was driving inside a giant satsuma. My mum started screaming and clutching her shopping (though how a couple of pairs of leisure slacks in a plastic bag would protect her from rear ending an articulated lorry I don't know) and I began to panic and try to dislodge it with the window wipers.
I eventually managed to untangle the thing just in time to realise I was almost up the arse of a giant chip van being towed on the back of a lorry. Only I could have almost met my maker in amongst a battered caravan full of gherkins and pickled eggs.
Thankfully I'm now currently safely installed on mum's sofa sipping a cup of tea and reflecting on the last few days.

I met up with trainer boy again on Thursday and he took me for dinner at a local hotel. It was really nice and the food was gorgeous. We discussed the fact that supertwat keeps ringing me and telling me he wants to be "friends" and how it's really upsetting me. I had managed to deliver some killer lines on the phone to him though that really got his blood boiling. One was cooked up by my boss who apparently had it said to him once and it's annoyed him for the last ten years. I told supertwat that despite my ex before him being a bit boring and not being very well qualified in anything, at least when we split up he had been a man about dividing our assets and there had been no illegal surprises. This made supertwat start screaming down the phone at me and I just sat there with a triumphant smile as he tied himself in knots and blustered and swore at me. It still stung a bit though when he said, "I just don't love you anymore and I'm not sure I ever did. I do really care about you though and I want to know you're alright".
I told him to sod off.

He then went on to accuse me of being "heavyhanded" by involving a solicitor and that he would give me the money back that he owed me when he had a chance. He told me he just didn't have that kind of money to give me and I replied that now neither did I as he had had all my cash.
I asked him why he couldn't get a bank loan to pay me back and he said that he would have to go to a loan shark and run the risk of being kneecapped. I told him that how he got it was his business and that he should stop being so flippin melodramatic. Idiot.

Anyway, the upshot of it is that it is now Sunday and despite him promising me that he would talk to his parents about how to pay me back, I've heard nothing on the subject but did get a text from him on Friday at 11.30pm saying,"Sweetheart I miss you and I can't bear to think of you all alone- be brave". I swear I nearly drove round to his house and rammed his sodding blackberry down his neck. I just don't know what's going on in his tiny little mind. He truly has lost the plot.

Luckily though, trainer boy has been more than a welcome distraction and he took me out again last night in his local town. I met all of his mates who were utterly lovely but I was a bit nervous so had my usual "ten gins in two hours" approach to social confidence. It meant that poor trainer boy was, at midnight, packing me up into his car outside a chip shop where I was pretening to be Russel Crowe in my new M&S Gladiator style dress shouting, "I am Spartacus! Come on, I'm a gladiator - I'll take you all on!!" and pretending to sword fight with his mates using a rolled up pizza box as a sword.
This wonderfully ladylike moment came thundering back into my mind this morning as I was inspecting the back of the toilet bowl and praying for god to be kind to my poor wretched soul. I also somehow apparently snapped trainer boy's belt as I stumbled into his car and fell over. I grabbed hold of him for support but grabbed his belt and as I fell, the buckle flew off and I snapped his brand new Diesel belt - oops.

It hasn't stopped him helping me out with even more stuff though. The publisher he knows phoned me today to ask if he could ring me tonight to discuss my manuscript and potential publishing deals. I was in Boots when he rang and had so many stripes of lipstick on my wrist I looked like I'd been whipped with a cat o'nine tails and had to drop my basket and run out of the shop so that I could speak to him properly. My poor mum was apparently chatting to me for ages (she had her eyes shut as she was getting a makeover on the Lancome counter) but I'd disappeared. She gave me a huge hug when I came back in and told her though and treated me to a load of M&S food by way of celebration.

Trainer boy really is turning out to be my knight in shining Nikes. Every time I seem to have a problem, he solves it or knows someone who can help me. He didn't even bat an eyelid when, last night, I poured my heart out in the car and sobbed all the way home about my infertility problems and the whole IVF saga. He simply stopped that car and said that he was so proud I chosen to confide in him and that I should never say never because there was always hope. He said that even if I didn't have my own children, he could tell that I would be a mum to someone as he said that I'd be great. I can assure you I didn't look like mum material though in a gladiator dress, high heels, holding a rolled up pizza box sword with a swollen snivelling face and my eyes that were so drunk they were almost looking in different directions. TB just let me in at home and left the usual pint of water by my bed.

I'm not sure he would have been too impressed by my breakfast this morning though. I had absolutely no food in and felt so awful that I couldn't face going to the shops. It was this combo that found me eating uncle ben's microwave rice with chicken bisto gravy in bed at half ten this morning. I truly am revolting. Amy Winehouse looks like ruddy Snow White next to me sometimes. My language was not too pretty either when I dripped bisto all over my lovely sparkly bedsheets cause my mum made me jump when she called me to tell me that her garden has been selected for a local "open gardens" competition. Imagine how delighted I was to hear about my mother's award winning hanging baskets when I was trying in vain to hang onto my stomach lining whilst balancing my carbs-fest breakfast on a tea tray.

Anyway, I'm going to shoot off now and play, "Hunt the nurofen" and then finally crack on with the schoolwork I've been avoiding all weekend. The pile of it is so massive that there's a high chance that I'll need crampons and an ice axe to get to the top of it.

So, I'll say bye for now. Will update again soon. Wish me luck with the solicitor and the publisher.

Lots of gin soaked love.

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P.S If anyone knows why I keep getting random picture messages of a hotel in dubai from an unknown number, I'd love to know...