The Good Day lasted about 3 hours. Then I realised: What with pretend lattes and herbal tea, having been without fresh ground for a few days, I’d forgotten about the temporary high of the caffeine kick.
I came down to earth in Argos (this sounds like something from Star Trek, or perhaps it is the possible first line of a poem). Sheer pull of gravity, a dizzy head and pain in muscles made standing looking through catalogue deeply unpleasant. I was looking for calico curtains to cover the open-to-view “wardrobe” area because of house now being on the market. Had nearly nailed the items needed when I was approached by a bright-eyed teenage girl in a wheelchair. She asked could I move to another desk as this one was low down and therefore suitable for her and her friend, also in a wheelchair. All the other desks were occupied. I hesitated.
“I’ll just be a minute,” I said.
“We’re in wheelchairs,” she said, “this is the right height for us.” I moved. By the flat-screen TV screens I sat down. I looked at the lovely, chattering girls in their wheelchairs. The mother of one of them was leaning down, listening. She looked up at me, baffled.
The house has been viewed twice today. I am feeling too full of M.E. to think about it very much – hey ho, silver lining. But in other respects, a perfect Sunday afternoon because I sat in a cosy picturehouse with popcorn and a good friend, watching the new Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore romcom, and it was everything the reviewers on rottentomatoes say it is. But today it was just the ticket.