piper laurie, carrie, knives, stabbed, fresh hell, hell

What fresh hell is this?

You are going along about your business and then suddenly: What Fresh Hell Is This?

The age of teeth

When your tooth cracks two things can happen: you can get a filling and perhaps a crown. Boring. Or you can be plunged into an agonising (physical, emotional and financial) journey that has no end and you *may* actually be writing this with half a tooth and a gloomy fiduciary future. You may have just asked your dentist if you even need the tooth. You have entered The Age Of Teeth.

The compromised commute

When you bump into someone you like but not that much and they are on the same train as you. And then you realise that they are going to be on your commute every day. Forever. Should you move house? Job? Or just another excuse to Uber…

The blankety blank

You are in a meeting and you realise that you haven’t been paying attention, you were thinking about [insert appropriate chain of thought that ended in you either having £100 million or being on the streets]. You are hoping something in your peripheral brain picked up what was being discussed because, for a terrifying moment, it seems that everything is lost. Your career. Your reputation. Then you say, “I am glad you asked that Margaret,” and it’s suddenly OK.

The added extra

You are genuinely looking forward to dinner or weekend or something. You love all the people and you know it’s going to be sweet (old school style). Until the day before and someone announces a new guest. And. Well, it’s some person you have terrible chemistry with. Maybe an old romance. Maybe your best friend’s other best friend. Anyway, they seem to chime with everyone else. The dread is back. The magic is gone.

The tired face

You look in the mirror in the morning and think, ‘Oh god I look tired’. You catch yourself in the shop window and think ‘I just look so tired’. In the holiday rental mirror, ‘I still look exhausted’. Then you realise that’s just your face now. Tired. Poor face.

The gut gripe

Yes to that hot Sainsbury’s pizza with the extra peppers. Yes to the burrito with some extra chilli and bring on the beans. Mac ‘n’ cheese side, yes please. How did you know I love curry? Sometime later in the midult of the night… You lie there feeling your traumatised insides grappling with what you’ve put away. Can this really be the end of the af-fayre?

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