Firstly, let me apologise for the lack of action round these parts of late. Things have been a bit intense, to say the least. I promise to try harder in future. Maybe not as hard as scatman Stan, who seems to be able to bang out posts as fast as he soils socks, but definitely harder.
Anyway, the reason things are intense is Tilly (which is as good a name as any). Ever fallen in love with somebody your flatmate thinks you shouldn't have fallen in love with? Love might be too strong a word, though maybe I'm just being cautious.
It's just that, after all the shit I've been through this past year, she's arrived on the scene and all the scary stuff that leaps out at me in the middle of a dope-induced paranoia attack - wheelchairs, life support machines, a load of indifferent, coke-snorting fuckstains at my funeral - suddenly doesn't seem so bad. Life feels like it's being lived rather than waited out right now. Life is crack.
Anyway, meet Tilly: