Still no words… and I’m exhausted after a 7am start and a 9am flight to Qld from Vic. I know that isn’t really very early, but it is for me, and yet again I was up after midnight last night. And yet again it was with laptop on lap but watching mindless TV including juicy medical madness repeats, instead of writing. I’m sure I could confidently diagnose every rare condition known to man, and of course when I was pregnant, I was convinced my unborn child would either be a conehead or a primordial dwarf. The Pops fell asleep exhausted with the reddest cheeks and crying that she wanted to go home. The only thing that calmed her down was a sad tale I told her about the time I was homesick when I was a little girl. I wasn’t completely honest about the true cruelty of the tortuous predicament. I didn’t want to frighten her! I suppose looking back it wasn’t THAT bad, but at the time… My mother had gone to hospital and my second year teacher who loved me (the cliched ‘teacher’s pet’ was extremely relevant), offered to have me for a couple of nights to ease the load on Dad. At the time we had sparrows in our ceiling and I was itchy from their lice falling onto our mattresses in the sleepout. Mum must have told Mrs Maher and she must have passed this bomb of info onto her particularly nasty daughter. She teased me the entire time I was there and wouldn’t let me swim in their neighbour’s pool. I was SO devastated, embarrassed and homesick that I made Mrs Maher take me home after the first night.”Oh the pain, the pain!” said Dr Smith. Children can be so cruel. Pops seemed to listen intently to my very abridged version of the story, and I reassured her she had no reason to be homesick. She stopped crying and went to sleep. Hope she doesn’t have nightmares about being taunted by Miss Maher… or sparrow lice!
Going to try and find a second wind to start crawling my way back to the May challenge.
