January 29th 2013
Today I am not well. Not as a result of chocolate eggs, just not well. I am in bed in my lovely fluffy dressing gown with my snuggly owl hot water bottle.
Being unwell as a grown up is horrible. As well as having to make the decision that you are actually not able to carry out your job if you go to work, there is conveying that to the people at work who need to know and feeling guilty for the whole day that maybe you could have powered through.
My Nana lived with us for my whole life until she passed away. I loved it so much, I was an unbelievably lucky child to be able to be that close to her, to see her every day. I had her to take care of me when I was ill and there are things that I will always associate with feeling ill and then better because of her.
One would be lying in bed and hearing her on the stairs. Our house has a wooden frame, so the stairs creak a lot. She was fairly slow moving, so I'd hear her from the bottom stair. There was no discouraging her though, Nana never liked to acknowledge her limits. This included deciding she didn't need a hearing aid, even if we did have to shout "WOULD YOU LIKE A COFFEE??" three times before she understood. Once she'd made it to the top, to my room, she'd always have marmite on toast for me. Sometimes some hot milk, which I adore, sometimes some juice or water, but always marmite on toast. Once my love affair with tea started that would enter the equation, and when that happened I remember making the decision to stay on the sofa downstairs.
Now...no one can do that for me. Yes, I do have lovely flatmates who will offer me tea even if I'm not ill. But neither of them stroke my hair and give me a cuddle. Can't get the staff these days quite frankly.
I will be better tomorrow. But for now, I must make myself some toast and tea and pretend I can hear the stairs at Pogles creaking.