50 Shades of Shit

One of the downsides of a long-ish commute to work is that when you're in pain from backache, and sitting hurts more than anything else, the journey feels hellish.

As a result, I've been trying extra-hard to find Kindle books that totally absorb me for the journey, as I find it's a kind of hypnosis.  Whilst it doesn't ease the pain completely, it stops me from focusing in on it.  Unfortunately "worthy" books rarely distract me as much as the trashy ones.  So for the last few weeks (with the exception of the fantastic Anne Tyler's new book The Beginner's Goodbye), I have been reading utter, utter guff on my journeys to and from work.  This guff has included The Hunger Games and most recently, though I'm ashamed to say it, Fifty Shades of Grey.

Fifty Shades of Grey was recommended to my by a colleague who told me a) not to read it on the tube (the joys of a Kindle means no-one knows what you're reading) and b) that it was really, really good.  Now, for those of you who have managed to avoid the hype so far, here is an outline of the book:

- University graduate meets hot multi-millionaire
- Multi-millionaire likes spanking university graduate
- His dark, tortured childhood is hinted at
- They go out in a private jet / helicopter / gilder a lot
- They do a bit more spanking, but nothing particularly shocking.  Unless I'm just perverse.

So far, so pedestrian.

The Amazon reviews are glowing.  Apparently it's a "deeply layered" story, which is "realistic" and "unputdownable".  Well, the last one has been disproved at least, as I've launched the Kindle across the room twice in disgust, not at the "erotic" scenes, but at at the truly terrible writing.

In addition to the bullet points above, as far as I can tell, the following happens at least 20 times.  Each.

• Ana says "Oh my".  This one actually happens about a million times
• She bites her bottom lip.  This girl is going to need surgery soon.
• She hears the tear of another foil packet.  Perhaps he's telling you he's putting a condom on.  If I know men, he's more likely to be opening a Pepperami.
• Ana speaks to her "inner goddess".  Ana's inner goddess is a cunt.  Fact.
• She rolls her eyes.  She does this so often, I expect she might be having petits mals.  She's probably epileptic.
• She is called "baby" by Christian.  If any man called me baby once, let alone 20 times, I would fucking shoot him in the face.  This might be why I'm not married to a multi-millionaire.

Anyway, give it a go.  It's great.  Anyone got any recommendations for a page-turner that isn't absolute shit?

Send in the muscle

Ploggers, Ploggers, Ploggers, I can only apologise for my tardiness in writing.  It's been a lovely but busy few weeks... which is no real excuse, as I actually managed to take a few days' annual leave.  My biggest problem at the moment is a massive backache, which makes sitting for any length of time (i.e. 5 minutes) really painful.  Until recently, I would balance the laptop on my tummy and tap away.  However, said tummy is now roughly the size of Mount Everest and the stupid laptop refuses to balance.

So I'm typing this as quickly as I can with a family-sized box of codeine next to me, just in case.  They don't really make family-sized boxes of codeine.  That wouldn't really be an appropriate marketing strategy.  They should though.  The first time I took it, I giggled at cheese in Tesco for approximately 15 minutes.

So I've been seeing a bunch of useless bastards healthcare professionals to try and sort the backache out, with somewhat limited success.  They're all lovely - just not terribly efficacious.  My physio in particular takes delight in hurting me.  It's a kind of deep tissue massage where she "releases pressure points" - this is technical terminology for getting her fingers or elbows or other evil pointy part of her body and jamming it into a part of my body which - until this point - wasn't hurting at all.  Apparently that's irrelevant, and it'll release pressure elsewhere.  I have pain in my spine and shoulder blades.  On Friday, she stuck her elbow into my arse.  Until I screamed.

Admittedly, at that point, I probably shouldn't have said, "Have you ever considered a career as a dominatrix?  I think they might earn more than physios."

Mental note: when someone has the wherewithal, the opportunity and quite literally the licence to cause you pain, perhaps suggesting they're a sex worker isn't the easiest route to a pain-free future.  You live, you learn.