It is last week, when I was slightly less tired, and MindReader and I are watching
OldTutor's play.
OldTutor rescued me from the throes of a 2:2 in my final year and did not smirk at the waterproof bag I wore over my operating foot in the rain. He is a Very Calm Buddhist. Consequently, I, of course, become more neurotic around him.
He approaches us in the interval.
"OldTutor, this is MindReader," I say, "and vice versa." They shake hands, and I feel MindReader watching me.
"The play's really good!" I say, waving the large paper program. OldTutor gazes across the stage, silent for a moment. Finally he clasps his hands together.
"Good, I'm glad" he says, nodding slowly. "And how are you?"
This question becomes increasingly difficult to answer. How much information do people want? My glands hurt too much to shave? It hurts to pee? I haven't poo'd for a week? Where do you stop?
"I'm fine," I say, waving a hand. "I'm sat down."
He laughs.
We talk about whether I understand the play. His essays, the actors.
He taps me on the shoulder as part, heading towards the bar.
I turn to MindReader. "Well!" I say.
"What?" he says, his blue eyes wide.
"Do you like him?"
"Yes, he seems very calm."
"Yes he is. And didn't I do well! Not too much neuroses."
MindReader stares at me for a moment. And then he slowly removes the program from my fingers.
You know, the one I had apparently folded and folded and folded into a tiny square and finally ripped into tiny bits whilst having a perfectly non-neurotic conversation.
Labels: embarrassing, MindReader
... Glandular fever is also known as "mono".
So there. That is what I have.
Labels: illness
"Hello," she says. "You answered your phone very quickly."
I sigh; the phone was on the arm of the sofa where I permanently reside. "Yes," I say. "I'm not very well again."
"Oh." She says. "What's wrong?"
"Still glandular fever. Had half the week off college, then went in for the last bit of the week and this morning I couldn't stand up."
"Oh dear."
"Yes," I say, realising I am beginning to go on a bit but it is talk about it or go crazy. "I have exams in three weeks and I just feel so stressed I keep crying at everything. I threw my phone across the room earlier in a big sulk because I couldn't
find my antibiotics. I'm just sick of not feeling well and -" my voice catches as I feel my throat begin to tense up.
"Oh dear," she says again. "Anyway the reason I'm calling is about this job I have..."
I am too tired to respond.
"One of my pupils is studying two poems by Grace Nichols - have you studied her?"
"No," I say faintly.
"Well anyway they have this essay and the poems are just
impossible as they're written in - like -
Jamaican dialect. So I was wondering if you could just take a look at them...?"
I am silent for a moment, thinking of my impending exams. And then, for the first time: "I am too ill. Sorry."
"Oh," she says. "I just don't understand them. How about I send them over and you just make a few notes? I'll get Adrian to do it now -"
She begins calling him, directing him about email attachments. My hand moves to my forehead, dripping with sweat, to my collar bones and armpits, which are too tender to shave.
I make my excuses, and hang up before she finishes speaking.
Labels: grumbles, illness
Things are a little bleak right now. I just can't seem to kick this glandular fever. my life feels full of cancelled plans and circling the TV guide and worrying about my impending lawyer exams.
MindReader and I were supposed to be in Cardiff this weekend, taking a drive through
Chruch Stretton and
Ludlow on the way and generally be a lovely middle aged couple for the weekend. But of course the glandular fever is having none of this so I am stuck on the sofa for the 6th week in a row, too tired to stand up.
This Thing is making me cry randomly.
Tips?
Labels: asking the internet, illness, MindReader
Really! Quit obsessing will you!
Blogged with Flock
Lucy: How are you today?
Having spent the weekend with her in London, double dating with Lucy'sBoyfriend and MindReader, I am of course exhausted.
Billygean: Tired. I am not in college AGAIN today because glands are big and I'm too tired to stand up.
Lucy: Oh dear. I'm sorry.
Billygean. It's okay. I should have said something to you on Saturday. Anyway, after we left you on Sunday morning we walked round like the whole of Regent's Park with MindReader's brother.
Lucy: You should tell people when you need to stop. When I had glandular fever I just had to take naps there and then.
Billygean: It's quite hard though. Most people don't even know what it is. I don't really want to announce to MindReader's brother that I need to sleep in Regent's Park.
Lucy: True. At least when I had it I was yellow. So I was obviously not well.
Billygean: I'd like to be yellow.
Lucy: It was good.
Billygean: Do you think if I drink enough Lemsip I will go yellow?
Lucy: You should eat a lot of tomato soup, then you go orange.
Billygean: Oh really?
Lucy: Yeah, it takes ages though.
Billygean: I don't like it either.
Lucy: Double gloom.
Labels: illness
"Is it really that bad then?" I say to Anonymous, whose mouth is drooping.
"Quite. I've told him if it doesn't change in the next few months we might have to take a break."
"God really?" I say
"Yeah, well, I just don't know what else to do."
"Right. So until then are you going to take any further action?"
"Could you maybe get out of lawyer mode?"
Labels: Home, law
"So what's new?" A says as I put my soy latte down on the Starbucks table.
She takes a very long scarf off, sending her dark mane flying upwards.
"My glandular fever test was positive and my purse was stolen today," I say, deadpan. "You?"
"Oh Christ," she says. "That's absolutely shit. How're you feeling?"
"Shit," I say. "Things like brushing my hair tire me."
"Oh."
She pauses.
"And how's MindReader?"
"He's well," I say. "Sympathetic."
She smirks suddenly, a glint of white teeth.
"What?" I say.
"Nothing."
"No, what?" I say, reaching across the table and prodding her arm.
"It's just, you're all lit up."
Labels: MindReader
I walk across Nanna Billygean's living room, my finished Chinese takeaway plate in hand. I reach across DoctorSister's Husband and grab DoctorSister's plate too.
We are in Newcastle visiting an assortment of my very extended family and MindReader's very extended university friends.
The hallway is silent as I move through it. I pause at the kitchen door, slightly ajar, for no reason.
"So do you think this one's The One then?" Nanna Billygean's
geordie voice says.
"You never know," MadFather says. "She was in bits over Spring. But you should see her with MindReader. They're so happy. They laugh almost constantly."
I feel as if I am smiling from head to toe as I burst into the kitchen, and Nanna Billygean's eyes are damp.
Labels: Dad, MindReader
With my newest second cousin.
Labels: MindReader
"Its udders scare me," I say to MindReader, looking at the cow mug he bought me from barcelona over the summer.
I take a sip of my coffee, for it is 6:45am. I make a mental note to be quieter since MadFather says he is sick of being woken up by mine and MindReader's incessant laughter.
"It's so weird, why are they on display?" I say, looking out the dark window and not wanting to get up.
"Well, because they ARE on display on cows?" he says, his blue eyes perplexed.
"Still. It's profane. They don't put penises on any other mugs."
MindReader opens his mouth. And then closes it. And then - "Billygean. What do you think udders are?"
"Penises."
"You think cows have FOUR penises?"
"Yes, like ducts."
"Billygean, cows are female."
"No," I say. "SOME cows are female. Some are males."
"What are bulls then?"
"Another species," I say, cringing as my argument crashes around my ears.
"No no no," he says rocking forward, his head in the duvet. "Cows are female and the udders are their BOOBS."
"But -" I say.
"Just think about it."
I sit quietly for a moment. All cows DO seem to have udders. And why would they need four penises?
"You're probably right," I say, the early morning making me conceed way too early.
"Right," MindReader says grabbing a towel and heading for a shower. "Just one thing?"
"Hm?" I say, flopping back onto the bed.
"What did you think milk was?"
Labels: blonde moments, embarrassing, MindReader
I am now on facebook! (as billygean not myself). Please go
here and add me as I am terribly intrigued by who the hundreds of you are who read every day!
Labels: asking the internet
"Just calling for a blood test result," I say into the phone as I sit in traffic on the M6. Yes, that means I have ventured back into the world of law.
"Was it a pregnancy test?" the receptionist says.
"
No," I say sharply. "I DO NOT WANT A PREGNANCY TEST."
"Okay!"
"It was a glandular fever test," I say.
"Oh," she says, making an assortment of Looking noises into the phone. You know the types. "One moment please," and "Just having a quick look..." said very slowly.
"Oh, it's - it's gone!"
"Um?"
"Sorry we appear to have lost it," she says.
"What do you mean you've LOST it?" I say.
"Well, it's missing."
I am lost for words. Does she want my help? So I say the only thing I can think of.
"Well, where did you last have it?"
Labels: grumbles, illness
I hear the doorbell go through a haze of sleep. I look at the clock. 1.20pm. I think I am bored and lonely enough to answer.
My ankles crack as I walk down the stairs and I add this new ailment to my list. My hand moves unconciously to my neck and feels if my glands are still up. They are: they feel like stones.
I open the door, drawing my dressing gown tighter around me.
"Betterware?" the woman says.
I push back my hair. "What?" I say, cotton wool balls in my mouth. Well, not literally.
"Have you got your Betterware order form?" she says.
"Um, no," I say. "I haven't ordered anything."
"You still need to give us the blank one back."
"Right," I say, getting tired from all the standing up. "Can I just find it later," I say, beginning to close the door.
"Can't you find it now?" she says.
I sigh loudly and half heartedly look on the kitchen counter next to me. "Er doesn't appear to be here," I mutter whilst lifting old envelopes.
"Most people I visit are dressed!" she says.
My head snaps up. Is that a sort of
joke?"Sorry?" I say, having not seen anyone else today and feeling rather up for a fight.
"It's just, well, most people are all, new year, new job, aren't they?"
I stare at her, attempting to BURN HER WITH MY EYES.
I want to tell her I have cancer. Or someone's just died. Glandular fever doesn't really have that edge to it.
"Your point is that I'm not dressed?" I say, icily.
"Well, yes, it's just -"
"Fuck off will you?" I say.
It is out my mouth before I can stop it.
"Er, did you just say? That's abuse!" she says. "I'm going to tell my supervisor."
"Yeah, well, I'll sue you." I mutter, unable to muster any legal terminology to back it up.
And on closing the door, that's when I realised I am a CRAZY RANTING NOT DRESSED LADY.
