Wake up drenched with sweat but freezing.
“Is that sweat or wee in your bed,” Mum says, at 6.45am or so, when we get up in time for 8.15am Spin.
“Sweat, this time,” I say, pulling on my padded-bottomed cycling shorts, fluoro gym top, Mum’s white snow-boots, trousers, scarf, gloves and goat . “So it’s not all doom and gloom. At least haven’t wet the bed since leaving hospital and…”
“Well, I suppose that’s something, darling,” Mum says.
So, Today has included:
1. 8.15am Spin Class entailing crawling out of bed at 6am.
- Terrible tummy ache.
- Pains in chest muscles where bits of self have been chopped up. Have run of opiates or anything else except Nurofen. Chest is starting to look very bruised.
- Exhaustion – couldn’t sleep this afternoon. Hoping for an early night.
- Overtired due to early start.
3. Trip back to flat with Dad to pick up a few things which turns into shoving the entire flat’s contents into the car. On the plus side, now have:
- Fifteen dresses
- Four pairs of boots
- Four pairs of heels-too-high-to-wear-outside-the-house
- Four new gym tops covered in motivational slogans.
- Several pairs of tights. At the moment they are wrapped round each other and have no idea whether they are laddered or not.
- Navy blue nail varnish with embedded glitter, similar to the one am wearing, for touch-ups.
4. Many fluffy monster cuddles.
5. Two sets of visitors.
Right, we’re going to watch Dirty Harry which is, so far, a gap in my cinematic education. One of the many gaps. Anyway: have exactly two hours before episode two of And Then There Were None and the film is two hours long. Don’t miss ATTWN: it’s absolute perfection.
The attached photo is the fluffy monster knocking cards over this morning on the dining room table, when he wasn’t allowed out in the pitch-black early morning.
Happy Sunday everyone!
*1971. Directed by Don Siegel. Crime thriller starring Clint Eastwood.