I have sinusitis. I feel like I’ve gone three rounds with an eniment Hollywood plastic surgeon without the joy of crow free eyes and my very own trout pout.
It is making me cross and a teeny bit crazy.
I sat in Tesco’s car park yesterday reading a poetry book and wondering whether I’d finally lost my marbles. I tried to weedle sympathy out of Mark who merely muttered that I appeared to be wearing my top on inside out and told me to visit the doctor about my head. (Not sure what he meant by that so decided to ignore it). I rang my Mum three hundred times and did my best to remain unresponsive to the irritation in her voice before insisting that she hand delivered some ibuprofren and applied some Motherly love to my fevered brow. I boiled two perfect milky white eggs by leaving them sitting in a pan of hot water for half an hour without switching the gas on, and ate them in a state of near nirvana, sprinkled in coarse ground black pepper and sliced to perfection on one of Finn’s nursery rhyme plates. I cried at the plight of a little boy on Casualty, drank oodles of strawberry juice all day long, learnt everything I will ever need to know about vintage species of clematis in an ancient garden book and felt like I was oooh, this close to going completely off my swollen head.
And it is all because I have never learned to blow my nose properly. No really. I am thirty five and I can’t blow my nose because I fear my eyeballs will fall out. So I sniff in an uncouth manner, shove lengths of kitchen roll up my sleeve like I plan on using it and inflict upon myself a million red hot pokers in my cheekbones and teeth that feel like I could spit them out with my toothpaste.
But enough already. Today I have recovered the teeniest degree of sanity. It is raining for the first time in about ten years and on my baby tomatoes behalf I am thrilled. After two weeks of running about doing goodness knows what, we are at last, staying in. Snuggled up in blankets with a tray of child size treats between us (Cubes of red cheese, Pom bears, cherry tomatoes, bite sized chocolate macaroons, and more scrumptious strawberry juice ) and Finley, bless his little snub nose, has agreed to teach me how to use a hankerchief…