Homemade earthquake

7.27 am

Its much too late to be attempting to write this, should be laying the breakfast table, getting dressed, getting the children up. There is very little time to find to be creative before the school run, the timeframe is tiny. The sore throat that I had when I first woke up has dissipated. I feel ok now. Been battling with technology and cables to work out how to upload a video that Naoise made yesterday. I have got there at last, but the quality of this version is poor, I’ll replace it with a better copy when I have a little more time, still you get the general idea with this sketchy version.

I was amazed by Naoise’s acting and point of shot camera work. All his own idea, made in the bedroom art. I asked his permission to post it here. The feature image is also a photograph by him. He has captured a fleeting moment of me tidying his room at night. Picking up or dropping his clothes. I am unsure what it is exactly, but just a glimpse of my hand and a blur of red.

Its good to get the children collaborating with me on this project. Can’t feed the monster all by myself. Its almost been a month now. Only another eleven to go. Best not to think about the big picture but meet each day as it comes.

I went for a walk with Patrick and Naoise but it was mostly dreadful as Naoise was refusing to walk, his stubbornness resulted in an argument between me and Patrick and a lot of piggy backs. I cannot even begin to go into the details of it here, that would be unkind. I hate it when there are disagreements over parenting, I just cannot stand it, it makes me feel so sad and depressed. It makes me feel so bad, and if it makes me feel bad then poor little Naoise too. I must learn to be more resilient, I must. A thick skin is needed when living in a relationship and bringing up children. There is just no time to argue, it is such a pointless activity. Pointless.

Syd is still unwell but was practising his songs on his electric guitar all day. Home is a constant soundtrack of Syd. He still looks pale as a sheet and reluctant to go outside, to do any exercise. He complains of feeling dizzy and that the lights are hurting his eyes. I worry. I am worried about him, he really is not himself, he didn’t even want to go out for a pub meal and was in bed by 8pm. This is most unlike him. Hopefully the blood test results will be in today and they will point towards a problem that can be treated.

I feel so caged by his illness. I haven’t left Todmorden in two weeks now. On call all the time. I have valley fever.

1 comment

  • Alison Burrows

    I have been reading Mrs Gaskell’s account of the Bronte children’s upbringing. Through reasons of isolation from the surrounding population, due Mr Bronte’s having been left a widower, and his preoccupation with his studying and pastoral work, the children “clung together” and informed themselves of current events from the local paper, and entertained themselves by writing plays and short stories. This attitude of mutual encouragement reminds me of our attempts to nurture that which is inside our children. The presence of a man about the house tempers over-indulgence, perhaps, but in my case, I am constantly tripping over the many paintings by Robert, which gather in the living room, the hall, up the stairs and eventually reach the attic. There are ways and means, but I would hope that Syd can follow his dream too.

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