Cough & Alarm
7:16 am (awake since 7am)
Sitting up in bed writing this. I am in the bedroom downstairs beside the bathroom. I got Patrick to sleep in the attic with the kids last night. I need a rest. I still feel unwell. My head is sore, my throat is sore, my stomach is swollen with water retention. I feel totally drained. In bed is where I should be.
I hear Naoise coughing. Syd’s alarm clock on his iPad going off. Patrick asking him to switch it off.
Outside grey and wet. The road busy with cars. Pigeons stand on the edge of the mill roof. The telegraph wires wave gently in the wind. Not even one patch of sun. Totally clouded over. I have been dreaming again of living somewhere else. Living down south in Cornwall where it is warm and tropical plants grow. This time last year our family set off to spend an Easter holiday in Cornwall with another family.
We stayed in a beautiful farm house in Brane, a tiny village where there are the remains of a neolithic village called Carn Euny. We had a magical time, cooking elaborate dinners for each other, playing musical instruments, hide and seek and charades late into the night. We swam in the sea. We ate picnics. We drank wine and talked and laughed and cried. The weather was balmy, more summer than spring. I remember making daisy chain crowns and necklaces with Naoise in the field to the side of the house.
One night we took the children for a star and moon lit walk to Carn Euny, we walked under the fogou (an underground passageway) and delighted at the bats that flew out and around us. We looked at the luminous algae growing on the stone. My friend told the children ghost stories, Syd was tired so I walked home with him, perhaps he was scared, I didn’t question it too much, we walked back down the lane together then along the road home.
Cough, Cough, Cough, Cough, bored of this cough. The GP sent me away without the antibiotics I was hoping for. I will go back on Monday if it continues, I’m not spending precious holiday time coughing.
Stomach cramps Pain. Period must be on its way. Face all puffy, stomach bulging. I hate it. I hate this part of being a woman.
Syd played out last night till far too late. He played football and he played at the youth club or youthy, as he refers to it. I worry about him hanging out (playing) away from home. He lost his world cup yellow football in the river calder. He was sad. He hugged me and apologised for being home late and was clearly upset about his ball. I muttered something to him in my half sleep.
Cough, cough, cough, need to rest, need to rest. Syd is going to his dads for the weekend, so need to rest a while before getting him up for breakfast and spending some time with him before he departs. I hate the weekends that he is away. I hate it.