Time For A Short Toilet Break

When it comes to gauging my own emotional health, I’m very much like Mr Justice and his inability to monitor his bladder: neither of us realises we’ve pushed it too far until – oops! –  it’s too late.

In Mr Justice’s case, he starts out by adopting the “hands forward, bottom back” move favoured by chorus-line choreographers all over the globe. It’s at this point that I gently ask him if he needs to go to the toilet, to which he replies somewhat emphatically “I don’t need to go!”, all the while pushing his bottom even further back as if trying to disassociate himself from it all together. I think we all know how that particular scenario ends. 

In my case, my husband gently suggests I might like to “take a break” from blogging – to which, I reply, with my voice higher and tighter than a tight-rope, “No, no. I’m fine. I’m completely and utterly FUCKING FINE!” And then I promptly burst into tears, which is a different kind of waterworks from Mr Justice’s but a surprising release all the same. 

And so I really am going to listen to my husband for a change and take a break. Yes, you heard me: I’m going to take a whole week off blogging and go frolic in the countryside with my family far away from my computer.

But I am not forsaking you, oh loyal readership-of-three. Watch this space next week as I embody the spirit of “Reduce, Reuse, Recycle” and schedule a handful of choice posts from my back catalogue, one each day for your reading pleasure. But then, maybe you need a break too?

Anyway, I’ll see y’all back here on the 6th July with at least ONE new joke tucked under my belt. I promise it’ll be a doozy!