I had quite a rubbish day at work today for a number of reasons, but it all came into sharp focus when I was reading a report this afternoon. Not only had the author liberally sprinkled the text with apostrophes in inappropriate places, there were several would ofs and theirs mixed up with theres. I must admit certain grammar and spelling errors wind me up, but I don’t normally find myself spiralling into fury over it. Having read through so much of it, though, the final straw came when I read a sentence containing the word ‘consummate’ when in fact the author clearly needed to use the word ‘commensurate’. I got so cross about it I actually found my heart rate was speeding up.

Then I realised that it’s probably a bit irrational to get so wound up by someone’s (genuine, probably) mistake and that the world won’t come to a crashing end just because someone can’t put an apostrophe in the right place. So it must be PMT. This happens most months – I get wound up out of all proportion by something ridiculous, then I finally work out that it must be my chuffing hormones again.

Ate my way through half a box – a BOX – of Cadbury’s Flakes. You know, the ones that are supposed to go on top of ice creams. I didn’t realise it was possible to eat Flakes aggressively, but now I know. Anyway, that should do the trick…