You may not have much money
But I love you all the same
So this year, for Christmas
Let’s play a little game
I know a place not far from here
Where creatures wait for homes
It would be such a shame
If they should spend Christmas alone
They’re living in a commune there
And don’t cost many readies
So take a walk to choose from
The bin of lonely teddies
Let them touch your tender heart
And choose one with such care
For he’ll forever be, for me,
a very special bear
I’ve just discovered a charity I was previously unaware of and am considering holding an Eve 4 eve soon, on account of it being Gynaecological Cancer Awareness Month. I didn’t know that either – it’s amazing what you can find on Twitter.
For more info, visit The Eve Appeal, or follow them on Twitter @TheEveAppeal
In the meantime, read my story, in poetry form (it’s now been three-and-a-half years).
I’ve been clear, for two and a half years; VAIN, not vanity; a little insane.
I shall elaborate, for this isn’t clear. Ladies, have you had a smear recently? I recommend you do; you too could be VAIN.
This is a tough one to address. I’ll try to do my best and not waffle a lot of falafel.
VAIN, or to put it another way, VAginal Intra-epithelial Neoplasia; not easy to say with a mouthful of shredded wheat, and turns out it wasn’t that easy to beat. I spent twenty-five years of my life under the knife.
Bits were removed, burnt, cut, frozen, but the nasty little cells kept coming back, like a bad penny. Procedures were many; hospital visits more routine than trips to the dentist. I was no longer phased by a student nurse’s gaze into my best bits – I was education to the nation!