Concussion? Pah! No time for such lark.

It's been a funny old week.

It started frantic with four deadlines due in as many days. I became a typing machine, nose buried in the laptop every waking minute (and a few sleepy ones too). I am finding the whole freelance malarky a bit...um...exhausting? There is no stop. If I am not working, I think I should be working, a constant sense of panic rooted in me to get the job done. If I stop to pee I feel guilty.

And then there is the working from home set up. My mum, who is looking after the kids, will get the kids ready to go to the park. But I want to go to the park too. But I can't. But I can. But I can't.

So anyway, bearing in mind this hyper state I am in, on wednesday night, whilst spinning on my heel to grab the ladle to dish up dinner (and spin I did), I thumped the back of my head on the kitchen cupboard.

I remember grabbing my head, pausing for a split second, thinking to myself "You are going down girlfriend". And that was that.

The next thing I know I gasp for air and I am licking the lino floor. And boy does it need a mop. Mr Scruff had very kindly put me in the recovery position and was ready with a glass of water.

I felt like Sylvester the Cat when he's been hit on the head with a frying pan. Boing. Thump. Dribble.

The next day, I carried on as normal, except everything was a little bit blurred. I put it off, but after much nagging from my mother (who kept repeating tragic tales of head injurys), I took myself off to hospital to err on the side of caution. And yes I did take my lap top and carried on working in the waiting room (and might I just add, I got heaps done - nothing makes you retreat into your own world more than an A&E department).

I am fine, just a few braincells down, the work has been handed in, and my kitchen floor has been scrubbed.

Come on next week, lets be having you.....