The Policy Of This House...

....is that anyone feeling ill, out of sorts or generally meh goes straight to their bed.
Night night

For Heaven's Sakes....!

How annoying is this? I've sold a book on Amazon for £12.50 and I can't bloody well find it. Why is everything so disorganised? I'm almost driven to join one of these de-cluttering challenges that are flying round blogland. But not quite.

Going to bed now to try to dream where I put it. Like that's going to happen...

BTW, thanks for your good wishes for Red everyone. She recovered sufficiently to go to Chiquitos this evening with a friend but I'm still planning to get her an appointment with the doc to check the heartbeat out.

All By Myself

Have I mentioned before that Big Man snores to such an extent that I have to be sedated every night, lest I fade away from lack of sleep? And that eight years after he left the Submarine Service and came home for good I'm still not used to having to share my bed? I know, that sounds weird and kinda cruel but....ten years of bringing kids up alone with only weekend visits from a tired and distracted man can make a girl pretty independent. When friends tell me that their husband or partner has to go away on business (or whatever they do) for a couple of nights, and they 'don't know HOW they'll cope....we've never been apart before', I can't help thinking how lucky they are. What a sad sack she is.

Big Man never goes anywhere. When I go to visit Babcia I luxuriate in The Most Comfortable Bed In The World. It's nothing special, but it's a double bed and I am in it all alone. Nobody snorting, moaning, making little whiny noises, hogging the quilt, taking all the space, throwing a big sweaty arm over me or giving those kind of jerky spasms that happen when you dream you're stepping off a kerb. Just me, all by myself. I can read with the light on - if I want to read in bed at home I have to wear a special head torch that Big Man thoughtfully bought me two Christmases ago. Because after all, nothing says 'I Love You' like buying your wife's gift from the Army Surplus Store.

Obviously I try to get my husband to spend nights away from home but it's not easy. It's not specially easy to get him to spend days away, come to that, but I've succeeded tomorrow. Mr Charming has to go back to his uni in Devon for a 20-minute tutorial when he'll get his marks for the year, and to bring his stuff home from halls. It's a four-and-a-half hour drive each way, plus an hour or so there....between 10 and 12 hours Big Man-free!!!
You're probably all thinking 'what a cow' but listen. If you're with somebody all the time, apart from work, and you like to be on your own, plus you've had years alone (when you didn't have to take another adult into consideration) then it's just a bit hard sometimes. That's all.

So, tomorrow. Day off work. Big Man and Mr Charming leaving at 06.00 for a 13.30 appointment (just in case they hit traffic. And to sate Big Man's punctuality obsession...these ex-military types, eh?). Nice lie-in for me. Read a bit of my book. Early lunch. Hairdressers at midday. Tootle round the charity shops then home to maybe bake a cake and...mmmm, salmon quiche anyone? Nice bath. Bed (alone) at 18:00.

Without my head torch.

*This is, indeed, the same as mine....

Being Ill vs 'Taking To Your Bed'

Quite often lately bloggers I follow have disappeared, only to return a couple of weeks later after being ill in some shape or form. I am lucky because I am rarely ill (touch wood!). I put this down to taking Vitamin C every day but to my family this is just one more manifestation of my 'being ridiculous'....'how sharper than a serpent's tooth' and all that. Although I have convinced Babcia to take a vitamin pill - she is, however, at the time of life where once again, everything I do is sensible, clever and excellent in every way.

So I am not often ill. That doesn't mean though that I never take to my bed. Oh no, 'taking to your bed' is a special tradition in my family. As a form of disapproval taking to your bed is second to none - my dad took to his bed for two days when I left home for real at 18. His father, my grandad, took to his bed for a week when his eldest daughter married an Italian. Other valid reasons for taking to your bed are: feeling sad; feeling hacked off; feeling angry; after an argument; and my favourite and most frequently used - 'just had enough'. It's not strictly necessary to sleep once you've taken to your bed but if asked what's the matter by a family member you must answer, with a sigh and a pained expression, 'nothing' - that's important....keep 'em guessing.

Yes, it's just an extreme 'time out' I suppose or a glorified sulk. A chance to think, maybe a chance to get over yourself. I'm not sure if it's an Irish thing (it's only my Irish side of the family that do it) or a paternal side of the family thing. Babcia rarely takes to her bed (and it's not always after half a bottle of Wybrowka when she does), but she does do it sometimes. Probably my dad's influence. Big Man doesn't take to his bed and had never come across 'taking to your bed' before he met me, but he appreciates the respite when I do it. And only today Red took to her bed when it was tortillas for dinner - slightly flimsy reason imho but it's a start. The tradition continues!

As a way of making you feel better I'd recommend it 100%. And you don't even have to be ill to start with!!