Coo-eee, I’m back!
Well, sort of back. I think I left my head and heart elsewhere actually – perhaps somewhere between a limpid patch of turquoise Mediterranean sea and the darkness of Gatwick Airport. I certainly have not got them here in the High Peak with me today. They are resoundingly lost luggage, I’m afraid. I feel dizzy, fuzzy-brained, washing around, slightly low – and am still rocking from the movement of the boat. It is a grey day and inclined to rain, which mirrors my mood exactly – and is certainly not helping it.
My brain, currently, can barely string a coherent thought together, let alone put it into a sentence. I have been trying to analyse why I feel like this. Low blood sugar? I have tried food and cups of tea, but to no avail (the milk was off). Lack of sleep? But I slept a full seven hours last night. So I have tried to fling myself into the myriad mundane domestic tasks I should be performing: I have collected the cat from the cattery; I have made a brief inspection of the garden; I have made a few necessary phone calls; I have attempted to look at my emails, but find even the spam stuff rather daunting, let alone the necessary communications with friends and others. And all this has done is make my brain even cloudier than ever, now clogged with guilty thoughts of long-neglected friends I should be in touch with which then sets off another toxic chain-reaction of thoughts about all the never-ending jobs and tasks around house and home and family life which weigh constantly and heavily around my neck. I have no energy for any of this. Nor for the fact that my printer is not working properly because it got left on while I was away and now all the ink nozzles have dried up and clogged and I cannot seem to get it clean and working again despite all known methods and plunges into cyberspace wisdom. So I can’t even get on with my admin. The cat, rescued from the cattery this morning, is clearly as discombobulated as me and is pacing around the place mewling pitifully and not knowing whether she is coming or going. We are a right pair got together.
Possibly the over-arching cause of my gloom is the knowledge that tomorrow is my birthday. As I currently feel, this is a cause for cessation rather than celebration. Why cheer another lost year, another inexorable step towards oblivion? I’ve always believed that you should feel special on your birthday – one day a year is not too much to ask, surely? N is not of the same opinion, coming from a long line of birthday humbugs (not helped by the fact he is one of only two brothers, both of whom have the singular distinction of being born on the same day – 23rd April – two years apart. For a number of years, younger brother handed older brother present, older brother handed over younger brother one in return. Younger brother eventually declares ‘Oh bollocks to this!’ and they have never knowingly exchanged birthday present since. When you are dealing with this sort of attitude, it is an uphill battle to specialdom, I can assure you). But this year I’m not sure that even I care. The forecast is for rain and the only birthday present I want is a sunny day. I had a birthday lunch planned with friends which now has to be moved due to their various other obligations. I have not yet planned anything with N. A babysitter is on standby but a night in with the telly and catching up with the final episodes of '24' (DON’T TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!!!) is perhaps all I will be in the mood for. I have no desire to flog a dead horse. Me being the old nag, of course.
On the subject of livestock, I had a curious experience when I went to get into the car this morning to fetch the cat. It had been sitting in the garage while we were away, garage door open. As I went to get into the driver’s side I noticed some curious brown splat marks on the concrete floor – and a slight whiff of urine. ‘Gosh, large swallows this year’, I thought, as I peered up into the nest they habitually use in the back corner of the garage. I noticed a small extension to it this year (a little extra straw thatching above the main muddy construction), but the rather larger brown splat I then spotted on the ground beneath it I didn’t believe a swallow - even one with serious bowel problems - could actually produce. I then noticed that our neatly stacked log pile had collapsed at one end and that there were even brown smear marks all over the garage wall, quite high up (somewhere around my mid torso). I then peered more closely at the car and spotted brown smears all across the paintwork and the petrol cap. The wing mirror was bent back and there were also splatters all over the alloy wheels. Conclusion: cow goes into garage, has major panic attack ‘cause gets inconceivably trapped in what would be a very small passageway for a large cow, shits itself a few times and then rubs its arse all over our wall and my car in its frantic attempts to reverse itself out of its situation. Now, in all this, I simply cannot imagine what sort of scenario there was to have the cow end up in the garage! My already befuddled mind is still boggling over this one….
Oh yes, and I came out of the study and my wrestles with the printer to find equally befuddled and confused cat had pulled herself together enough to catch a mouse and leave nothing but the warm green squiggly bits on my hall floor.
It’s good to be back.