Time flies – is that the date? But look, I have been hellishly busy with matters arising. Ok, I have had an autumn relapse and barely left the house, but living with M.E. is a full-time occupation – some Sylvia Plath lines come to mind: I do it exceptionally well, I do it so it feels like hell. It feels closer to the truth (though less poetic) to say that I do it so it feels just about ok. I no longer care if what people have is a vision of the genteel invalid lifestyle. If you want the the nitty gritty about living with M.E. you can easily find it but I have done my time at that particular coalface, I think. Just picture me a bit (but not unattractively) off-colour in soft yoga pants looking out over treetops with my notebook, a china cup of Darjeeling on a tray, some thin arrowroot biscuits on a plate and a flaming chrysanthemum in a slender vase. The yoga pants are true, the rest not so much, especially the arrowroot.
On the weekend we moved our bed to the back room with the best view. Son, whose room it was, came to help. So I really do look out at treetops and sky and I am happier about this, and the new, uncluttered space, than I can begin to express. New spaces always promise new possibilities. Soon, very soon, life gets (relatively speaking) busy. The writing and the workshopping are wanting one’s focus and vitality. It is the lovely Daughter’s birthday this week and we will be heading to the Smoke for a small family gathering and sleepover. Next week we will be going away for a while to the Jurassic coast and after that we will be in deep, dark winter.
It may be for these reasons, and others which I don’t here identify, that I go blog-silent for a space. And if that happens you will know that I am not dead, but sleeping, like Snow-White after biting on the poisoned apple. I am as pretty as she, and as stupid.