My terrifying family has left now (well, they’re still in the area but I’ll not be seeing them before they toddle off down south again). We had a nice evening yesterday at BAMBURGH, the best of all the beaches. I think that if I were to stay in Northumberland long-term (not outside the realms of possibility), and if I had unlimited wealth (less likely), and if I learnt to drive (the least likely of the three at this rate), I’d get a house in Bamburgh. There’s already one I’ve got my eye on, but that’s rather outside of my price range, especially as my price range is ‘all houses costing more than £20,000, aka all houses’. But who knows. Equally, I may buy an abandoned farmhouse in Sweden and start a commune.
Where was I? Bamburgh. We had an epic picnic, and little Cerys even persuaded me to paddle in the sea. IT WAS COLD. We watched the sunset and it was all quite pretty (despite the desolation that you will invariably find north of Birmingham):

I’d previously seen my family at the weekend and also on Tuesday, for fun bouldering/CURRY NIGHT AT MY HOUSE, but it was still a shame to see them trot off. I kind of wish I wasn’t/they weren’t so far away sometimes.
Something TRAGIC happened when my family left. My back started aching, but I thought it was just because I’d been on my feet a bit more than usual/had general tiredness. Then it REALLY started to hurt, and by the time I was ready for bed, I was having trouble walking. Then followed a miserable night’s sleep, because every time I rolled over, and even when I sneezed, the pain was worse than anything I’ve ever experienced. I’ll admit my experience of pain is not vast, but this really hurt. This culminated when I tried to get up to go to my bathroom, 2 metres away from my bed, at 5am this morning, and was in so much pain from that short journey that I nearly wept. It was a pathetic sight:
I then spent an hour worrying about whether I’d have to call in sick, then an hour sleeping before getting up extra early to allow time for seeing whether I could walk again. With a bit of willpower and coffee, I could, and things got better throughout the day. The pain went away at about 11am, leaving merely stiffness (lolz) in its wake. It was quite hard to get comfortable sat at my desk in th’office. Nothing like this has happened before, and I’m a bit worried in case it happens again during a time when I have to do stuff like get to work. Maybe it is just my great age. I’ll see a doctor if it happens again.
Anyway, this is enough moaning about my health. I am eating pizza. It is the start of a 3-day weekend. I had a successful and pleasant conversation about the prettiness of Bamburgh with the lady at the supermarket till, as though I were a normal member of society. I have much to be thankful for. On Sunday I am hopefully off to a VIKING FESTIVAL. I say ‘hopefully’ because maybe something will go wrong, like maybe we’ll get struck by lightning, and I won’t get to go at all. This would be disappointing so I’m trying to prepare for that eventuality. I’m going to bring MY VIKING BEARD, still one of the best things I have ever owned, all thanks to and her mum! I’ll also be using the weekend to clean, although I guess I have the reasonably good excuse of a bad back if I change my mum. I’m having blueberry pancakes for my tea tomorrow, after realising that they’re something I have always wanted to try but have never actually managed. Much like Rebecca Black, I am ‘looking forward to the weekend’.