I am in severe pain. I can't stay still for longer than two minutes, can't pace the room without needing to sit down. Can't pretend I never woke up - head where my feet should be, big toes drawing circles of pain against my sloped white walls. Doesn't work. I fed the cat down the road earlier on. Her narrow cat-face poked itself between the hair swept across my face; green cat-eyes puzzled as I writhed around on her sunny yellow sofa. Wave after wave. Where's the metaphorical surfboard? I tried being 'at one with the pain' but gave up. What bollocks. It could be worse. I could be working right now, standing at the till in my long black apron, notepad shoved into the pocket of my waistcoat explaining that no, sorry, the soup isn't gluton-free today.