Isn’t it ridiculous - and frankly pathetic - how fed up a bad cold can make you feel?
I went to see the GP about my chronic sinus problems on Monday, and the next day came down with another cold…which went straight to my sinuses. Plus I’ve been missing Mary badly this week. Yesterday teatime I felt like this Charlie Smith quote:
”We are often far from home in a dark town, and our griefs are difficult to translate into a language understood by others.”
And then I started missing my mother, who died six years ago.
I sent a miserable self-pitying email to the Aging Hippie and got an understanding, loving and encouraging email back from her, a woman who is literally far from home, and often lonely. And Dave brought me a mug of tea to bed and said "You look marginally better. Or maybe just a whisker less close to death," which made me smile. And he said that no matter how bad I felt I should definitely go to the talk about Conscientious Objectors in the two world wars that’s been in my diary for two months.
So I’ve had my croissant and home-made lemon curd and I’m going to get up and get moving, no matter how crap I feel. I may be self-pitying and whinging, but I am loved. And really, isn’t that everything?