Oh. My. Goodness. I’ve just found out that I’m one of the winners in the Inspirational category of the Brilliance in Blogging awards, run by British Mummy Bloggers. I’m completely overwhelmed, chuffed to bits, can’t stop smiling!
I’m particularly honoured to be sharing the stage for this award with the truly inspirational Linda Jones, whose Speaking Up – Breaking the Silence blog is a lifeline for anyone with mental illness, and the very lovely Josie George (otherwise known on Twitter as @porridgebrain) who writes beautifully and with humour about life’s big and small challenges in Sleep is for the Weak.
Thanks SO much to everyone who voted for me. It’s made my day, if not my year, and I really appreciate your support. I think I might have a small Stones Ginger Wine on the rocks to celebrate. Tinkle tinkle.
I did jinx myself before Christmas by saying I didn’t think I would need a wig, by the way. Appointment booked at Joseph’s West End Hair next week to get a syrup sorted. I don’t know what West End Hair is but it sounds like a song from popular beat combo the Pet Shop Boys, who I have loved forever, and has to be better than the Terry Nutkins look.
I showed DH the website and he was drawn to all the long blonde wavy wigs – ie the ones that lap dancers wear. Personally I quite like Glaze and Bianca (doncha just love that wigs have porn star-ish names?)
In the meantime, my hair’s really too thin on the crown now to leave the house without some sort of head covering, so I’ve been rocking my prized Hermes scarf and making full use of my beanie, and today got a lovely parcel in the post from Suburban Turban. What do you think?
I haven’t taken it off since it arrived, it’s really soft, comfy jersey and makes me feel much less self-conscious. I hate getting a glimpse of my baldy bonce in the mirror, it makes me well up every time because it’s so bloody obvious now that I have f%cking caaancer.
But hey, it’s only temporary, as my wonderful Pops always says, and winning my little gong has made it a tad easier to Keep Buggering On (you have to say this like Winston Churchill used to, for full effect, pretending you have multiple chins and a big cigar, with Adolf and the Black Dog both breathing down your neck). Now, where did I put that bottle of ginger wine?