"Guess who added me on Facebook?" OldestFriend says, sipping her coffee.
"Not -"
"Yes!" she squeals.
We are, of course, talking about a boy we lusted after in upper sixth form. That is, when we were 17.
"Let me see," I say, opening my laptop.
I tilt my head to the side. "He looks -"
"I know, good looking in some and
awful in others," she says.
"It was more his
presence," I say.
"Yes, he could just walk into the room and everyone would stare."
"But he didn't
want you to," I say.
I look at his profile. "I am surprised he's single. I thought he was more a relationship kind of man."
"Did you ever speak to him?"
"No."
I pad into the kitchen after calculating MindReader will be here in a couple of minutes and turn the kettle on. I wasn't able to make drinks for the best part of two months so nothing can stop me now.
I take the proper coffee out of the fridge and smell it - oh the days when I could drink fresh coffee.
I don't really know what happened next. Somehow between getting my soya milk out and getting MindReader's dairy milk out, the dairy milk ended up all over the floor. I mean ALL OVER THE FLOOR, rivers of it, at least two pints.
So, I think,
this is what I'm going to do with my energy today.
I stare at the floor, delaying it. What happens when you're well enough to make drinks but not well enough to clean them up?
Just then MindReader walks in. "Hello," he says, grinning broadly. And then - "oh. I see."
I stand with my hands on my hips for a moment and he wordlessly gets a bowl out, fills it with hot soapy water and scrubs at the floor.
It takes over five minutes and I stand there in silence, feeling guilty and ridiculous for the tears welling in my eyes.
He stops scrubbing, pats a towel over the wet patches, pours the water away and stands up. "So," he says, ignoring everything around us, "how was your day?"
Labels: grumbles, illness, MindReader
"Right," MindReader says, having come in from his run. "I am going for a shower."
"Okay," I say, straightening my hair.
"If I'm not back in ten minutes can you go and shake the potatoes?"
"Er - yes," I say. "Why?"
He catches the expression on my face. "The ones in the oven," he says.
"Ohhh."
Labels: blonde moments, diet, MindReader
"I'm bored," I say to
MindReader across my candles. It is dusk and we are lounging in the living room, the windows thrown wide open.
"How are you feeling?"
MindReader says.
I shrug, "fine," I say.
He tugs at my hand and leads me outside into the garden,
greeny-yellow on a backdrop of light blue dusky sky. The air outside is warmer than in and it is so still it feels almost airless. It smells of earth and blossom and nighttime.
He appears out of the garage with a golf club and a ball and I snort. "Er?"
"It'll be fun," he says, placing his warm body behind me.
I spend a while obsessing over my grip and trying not to stand like a ballerina. I consider hitting it a few times but chicken out.
"Please go in the garage," I say to
MindReader. "I can't do it in front of you!"
Alone, I stare at the golf ball and the club. I take a deep breath and swing.
Events happen in this order:
I miss the ball, hit the washing line with the club and fall over.
I hear a snort from the direction of the garage and stand up.
"You watched!" I say.
"
Billygean,"
MindReader says, looking at my grass-stained knees. "I love you."
Labels: blonde moments, embarrassing, illness, MindReader
"It says here," I say, pushing my new fringe out of my eyes and squinting at the recipe, "that you boil the orange for two hours until soft - done - and then blend it. Including the skin."
"Right,"
MadFather says, his hands covered in orange. "Why did you choose this recipe when we don't have a blender?"
"Oh."
"It's okay," he says, "we can just - well, mush it up. And grate the skin."
"It'll be fine," I say, picking up a cheese grater.
"That's why we're crap at baking,"
MadFather says, grating the very soft orange down the side of the grater. He looks at the orange mush in the bowl. "This is going to be rubbish."
Half an hour later we have something resembling a cake mix. And I am still not tired!
The kitchen is hot so I open the door and sit on the step outside for a moment. I look across the street.
Our neighbour gets something out of her boot. It is a brand new blender.
I roll my eyes.
(the cake is for
Mindreader who got a distinction on the law course I deferred. I have no candles hence the decoration is slightly - er - seasonal).
Labels: baking disasters, MindReader
My Mother sits opposite me on the couch. I shift uncomfortably against my pillows and I contemplate whether she thinks I'm being
lazy now.
"No, we've got no money either," she is saying, fiddling with the buttons on her coat. She wears a winter coat year-round. "And Husband can't find a job."
Husband is the man she left
MadFather for. It was all very traumatic.
"No, it's rubbish," I say. "Dad's not having much luck either."
"Problem is my husband won't stop smoking or drinking and we spend £1200 on that a month."
My mouth drops open and I pause. "I see," I say, when I have recovered. "Dad won't spend
any money, I have to hide my
ebay parcels from him."
"I wish Husband was more like your Dad," she says.
I do not articulate the unspoken words that hang in the air between us.
I place MindReader's coffee and Dairy Milk down next to him. It is late evening.
"Thanks," he says, touching my hand and pulling me down next to him.
I rest my head on his shoulder and watch some comedy quiz show thing.
Moments later he turns to me and kisses me.
"Dear God," I say as he pulls away.
"Oh, I know."
"No," I say, "you taste of Dairy Milk."
"Oh," he says, looking put out.
"Come on, it's been a month without chocolate!"
Labels: diet, MindReader
1. From
Kirst - What is the largest animal in the world?
Well. I said elephant but
MadFather tells me it's a blue whale. So: there you are.
2.
Raquela - when might you be babysitting cats in the future?!
Unfortunately,
DoctorSister'sHusband has put a blanket ban on me babysitting the cats for the following reasons:
1. I left the heating on
2. I fed the neighbour's cat, too.
So, there.
3.
Nic says - who is your favourite member of
McFly?
You know, I don't know
any members of
McFly. Having looked at
this photo I would have to say that the man on the far left has a huge face, the man second from the left looks like a middle aged housewife, and the other two look like bog standard indie boys except one has horrible hair. So: probably the one second from the right.
4.
Justmeandb asks - do you watch Big Brother 9? Are you able to watch the US Big Brother 10?
I got into the very first few Big Brothers when they were not full of people being paraded for their abnormalities. The weirder they got, the less interested in
transsexuals/bisexuals/witches/albinos I got. Funny that.
5. Suzy asks - who would be in your World 11 (football?)
Hm. I'm not really sure what this is. I think I would have
MindReader, because he is very good at football. I would play too, if I could, just because that would mean I didn't have glandular fever anymore. I would therefor also recruit some people to stand on the sidelines with me and gossip - Lucy,
OldestFriend and
MadFather - and um...... 6 more people who could play football quite well. There!
6. Suzy asks - why did Mike delete me as a friend?
Mike probably doesn't want any mutual friends with me because he thinks I am evil.
7. Suzy asks - I've left my cardigan at work three times this month. Do you think I will make a good Mum, or will I lose the baby/
ies?
Well, you probably wouldn't be taking the baby to work and if you left it there I suspect a hospital isn't the WORST place to lose a baby. Incidentally there is now an alarm (see
here) that goes off when people leave their baby in the car instead of taking it into the supermarket with them. You know, dogs die in hot cars, and babies are just like dogs in terms of forgetting them (!).
8. Suzy asks - what colour bridesmaids dress?
OldestFriend came over last night and showed me a piece of ribbon that the dresses are to be based on. It is dark grey and swishy and shimmery. I have free reign on the design of my dress though which worries me since I couldn't be less artistic.
Unless you mean mine? In which case I'd like them to be like
this. That is - the colour. I don't necessarily want all Asian bridesmaids.
9. Suzy asks - which nursery rhyme contains the line 'the dish ran away with the spoon'?
Dum dum dum da da the cow jumped over the moon... Hey diddle diddle?
10. Suzy asks - what is your favourite property on a monopoly board?
Um. Park Lane. Because if I've bought that it means I might be winning.
11
. It's fun to bank asks - what's the novel about?
Good question, I won't even tell some of my close friends this. The novel begins the night before the main character goes to university. Her mum dies, and she was not close to her dad. The latter half of the book post mum dying is therefore about reassembling her identity after depression, and building a relationship with her father. It's a little bit King Lear since she is horrible to him at some points in the book.
12.
It's fun to bank asks - Do you think you'll be a full time lawyer/ novelist/ housewife or something else by the time you're 45?
Well, as long as my health continues to improve, I should be a full time lawyer by September 2009, or 2010 if my health takes a little bit longer.
I am unsure on the novelist angle, it depends on so many things - me being able to get over insecurities and finish the novel, a publisher wanting to publish it, and, when faced with the decision, me choosing a life writing alone rather than defending criminal clients which would be a very difficult decision for me to make - so I'm not sure.
Housewife - well, I do want children, and before I got sick I never would have imagined not working for years in order to look after them. But now - who knows?
13.
Kirst asks - what would be your three desert island books? And what would the desert island be?
Very very difficult question. I love lots of books.
On Beauty -
Zadie Smith - because it is the best 21st century writing I have ever seen. I genuinely believe all of the characters exist on this Earth.
To The Lighthouse - Woolf.
The complete works of William Shakespeare.
And the desert island would be near the Maldives. They're currently my desktop, and where
MindReader'sSister is on her honeymoon, so I am very jealous.
14.
OldestFriend asks - If you had a box of Lego bricks, what would you build?
I used to build towns/cities with roads and houses so probably that. Or just a big mansion.
15.
Justmeandb asks - Since "Mike" has been referenced twice in this post I just HAVE TO know who he is! So, who is "Mike"?
Although you have retracted this I think I shall answer anyway for the avoidance of doubt. Mike is my ex-boyfriend. We dated from 16 October 2003 to 25
th March 2007. He will tell you I left him for
MindReader. I would like to tell him it takes two to ruin a relationship.
16.
Kitania asks -
Ok... what is it about
MindReader that you love the most? Only one thing...
His bum. Look at it - it is the most perfect thing on earth.
No. Seriously. The thing I love most is hit wit. When I met him it was like I'd realise I'd only been half laughing for the first 22 years of my life, and he changed that completely. Sexy ass nonetheless though.
Labels: asking the internet
I quite liked the idea of this, and from some of the emails I get I think you will too. So: ask me anything, ANYTHING (I hope Mike doesn't read this!) and I will answer.
Until a certain time when I close comments/emails. Because I can't go on answering forever. But I'm not going to say I'm going to close it in 24 hours if I haven't got any questions by then.
So yes: ask away.
Labels: asking the internet
Well.
MindReader and I went on our first date in months and months today. Admittedly we only went to Starbucks for half an hour and most of the time I was dizzy but! I wouldn't have been able to do that two weeks ago. And we talked! Alone! And I couldn't behave like an orangutan because we were in public! (as he kept pointing out). I had forgotten smells of buildings that are not my house, of brewing coffee and other people's perfume, I had not raised my voice in months (other than obligatory gland-shouting moments) but had to, today, because of other people's voices. I hope I never forget all this again.
Also,
OldestFriend today has told me she wants me to be her BRIDESMAID. This pleases me on a number of levels:
1. She has faith I will be well in 18 months.
2. Her wedding is just after New Year, to beat the post-Christmas blues, something we both struggle with.
3. The number of bridesmaids at my wedding is increasing quite a lot, presuming I have everyone who has asked me. I'd like to have hundreds, but
MindReader disagrees.
So, there. Lucy is coming up tomorrow for the weekend and lots good has happened today. Except I'm not seeing
MindReader now until Monday and this sometimes eclipses all happy thoughts. Damn you, hormones. And endorphins.
Still, in 18 months' time I WILL be wearing a swishy silvery dress and walking down the aisle and NOT feeling tired
damnit.
(our date)
Labels: illness, MindReader
I place
Your Guide to Gluten-free Wheat-free Cooking on the counter in WH Smiths.
"Just that?" the man says. I try not to hurry him, afterall, he's not to know I've been to Asda (BRIEFLY) too, is he? Oh, and that I'm not exactly normal yet.
"Yes thanks," I say and push my switch card into the holder.
"Can I interest you in a Nutrigrain bar? It's important to get three servings of whole grain wheat a day," he says.
I look down at the book. And up again.
"No - I think I'll pass thanks."
Labels: diet, illness
"I'm bored," I say, extracting myself from
MindReader's embrace and walking into the kitchen. I try not to think that today I have tidied my room, made two rounds of drinks and had a very long shower. I try not to let The Glands realise I am getting better.
I come back armed with ground rice, ground almonds, caster sugar and almond essence. And then again with an assortment of bowls and scales and whisks. Since
the almond macaroons actually turned out okay last time I begin whisking the egg white. Noisily. Over
MindReader's cooking programme. He doesn't say a thing. This will be one of the entries I look back on when he runs screaming into the sunset.
I measure everything out in the scales together -
doing mathematics? -
MindReader said, ruffling my hair as I concentrated, and then dumped the entire contents in the bowl -
gradually - at which he rolled his eyes.
I dump the mixture onto the baking trays and most of it is sticking to my hands. Shrugging, I try to add some to the small, misshapen mounds by shaking my fingers over them and watching the drops fling everywhere.
I look at the macaroons. They are not round. Or spherical. They look like shells. Which is not a good thing.
"Beautiful,
Billygean,"
MindReader says with a smirk. I look at him and realise he is looking at his socks.
They are, inexplicably, covered in macaroon mix.
"I need to put basmati rice on, for dinner," he says, standing up and brushing his socks off.
"Need a hand?" I say.
"What do you think?"
Labels: baking disasters, illness, MindReader
"So how was the wedding?" Lucy says on the phone to me at the start of one of our mammoth phone calls. "And how's MindReader?"
"He's great," I say, "I want to have his babies."
I pause. "Except I'm
bound to get post natal depression."
"Oh," Lucy says, without missing a beat, "I'm
far more likely to get that than you are. I'll go first and let you know?"
Last night was perfect - plenty of coffee (decaf, soy), the living room full of candles, the scents of July coming in through the windows,
MindReader, of course - except that we watched a horror movie.
"Please please please," I say to
MindReader, standing by my bedroom door.
"
Nooooo," he says from my bed, the duvet drawn up to his waist. "There are no monsters in the bathroom, I promise."
"There might be!"
"No," he says, shaking his head.
"Please!" I say. "Women
have to pee, you know, after -"
"I know, I know," he says and I hold his gaze for a moment.
"Pleaaassseeee. I'd do it for you"
"Fine fine," he says, putting his book down and following me to the bathroom.
There are of course no monsters in the bathroom.
He sits on the side of the bath as I pee - which believe me took a good 12 months of our relationship for me to be able to do - and I follow him back to bed.
I lie rather close to him, my head on his chest and he wraps an arm around me, picking up his book again.
I lift my head to look at him just as I see him mouth the word
mental.
Labels: MindReader
It is the day after the wedding. I am lying on the sofa, my legs across
MindReader's lap. I sip my decaf
soya rubbish coffee.
I pick a breadcrumb off his shoulder and, realising my orangutan-like behaviour, smile as a mime eating it.
He scratches my belly and I push my lips out, monkey-like.
He disappears off into the kitchen and I smile, left alone in the living room.
I spot
MindReader's aunt in the dining room and she comes over to me.
"Hello," she says, in an overly-friendly way. "And
how're you?"
"Fine," I say, blushing, hoping she did not see the monkey exchange between us.
She talks to me for a while, all in a very gentle manner, on her knees so her face is rather near mine.
"What - er - what does your aunt do?" I say later to
MindReader's brother, in the garden.
"She takes care of autistic kids," he says.
Labels: illness, MindReader, wedding hell
MindReader's car pulls onto his drive as I emerge from my nap. It is two hours after the wedding, and he is paying me a visit, having managed to sneak away from ushering and having his photograph taken.
I hear his key in the lock and my stomach flips over, as it does sometimes in
MindReader's presence.
He scoops me up and puts me on the larger sofa, spooning himself close to me.
"How do you feel?" he
mummers.
"Okay," I say, and I remember the ceremony.
The church was filled with flowers and candles,
MindReader's arm warm and safe around my shoulders. I felt quite awful quite quickly, probably because I expended most of my energy straightening my hair (ever the girl) and shaking with nerves. I was, of course, fine. I smile, turning to face
MindReader.
"It was really fine," I say, "thanks to the
Internet."
He smirks and kisses my hair, my eyelids. "You and your support group," he says.
He pulls me nearer to him as I remember the vows, how I caught his eyes on
in sickness and in health and he squeezed my hand, a silent message passing between us.
"The speeches were really good," he says, a kiss on my ears, my fingers.
I snuggle closer to him and consider how often we kiss, how we are never not touching.
"Are we still sickening?" I say. "After over a year?"
"Definitely," he says, lacing his fingers with mine and drawing them around his neck.
"I think," I say, holding the truth that has sat so calmly in my mind for the past eleven months, tasting how it feels in my mouth, "that you are The One."
The truth of the words falls on the air between us. "I know,"
MindReader murmurs into my hair, "you are just - it. I am so sure."
I smile into his hair, which smells of my shampoo.
Labels: illness, MindReader, wedding hell
Right.
Body did not enjoy the hair dresser. I appreciate that, and have given Body lots of rest, including going to bed early last night. Body then woke up at 9am so I do not quite understand why it can't sit up if it won't let me sleep either. Body is unreasonable. Body is like lady before her period. ALL THE TIME.
As the wedding approaches (26 hours to go) I am a bag of nerves. I think I probably pulled some hairs out last night on the phone to MindReader. I don't actually know what would
happen if I went beyond my limits but I think it may involve collapsing and/or fainting.
I have become increasingly neurotic about the smallest of details (
you told me I'd be at the church ten minutes early not twenty) and have become obsessive to the point of psychotic on the subject of sleep (
I am grateful the dogs have been sent away but what if people make a lot of noise when having their hair done?). My eyebrows shot up when MindReader's father said
but there may not be room for you to lie down all day on Sunday. I did not know how to put into words that it is not my choice, or his choice, to make. I have also become an expert on extrapolation (
if your Dad thinks I can
sit up all day, what does he think of the fact that I've been in bed for 7 months? Or that I haven't come to see you once? Or that I've quit college? Or when I collapse in the church in 25 hours and 55 minutes?).
This is all aside from the fact that I have to take my own BREAD. I think if I met me, I would think I was a big loser.
I am not trying to be a bitch, and nor do I think it's my wedding day, but I am feeling nobody quite understands how scary it is to be far, far too ill to do something and to do it anyway. People with flu do not go to weddings, and that is essentially what I have, except it's lasted for 7 months.
Above all, I wonder why MindReader told me there was a spider in his living room last night.
Labels: illness, MindReader, wedding hell
My eyes meet Hairdresser's in the mirror.
God, my roots are awful, I think.
"Any occasion?" she says, painting the blonde colours onto my roots.
"A wedding," I say simply, rather than
a wedding, but just the morning, or,
a wedding, and I wish I could take a headrest.
"Lovely," she says. "Are you taking a date?"
"Yes," I say, smiling as I think of MindReader in his usher's outfit.
"I thought so," she said. "You've got that annoying look about you."
"What look?!"I say, blushing.
"The look of a smug couple," she says and I laugh.
"Can I get you a drink?"
I think for a moment. "What do you have?"
"Tea?"
"I - er - can't have tea."
"Coffee?"
"Same."
"Orange squash?"
"Does it have barley in it?" I say, wincing as I realise I am One Of Those People.
"Yes."
"I'll just have - water then,"I say.
I check my watch. I have been sitting up for 40 minutes, and so far, no dizziness. But she guaranteed it would be less than an hour and it is clearly not going to be.
"You ok?" she says.
I take a deep breath. "Yes," I say. "I'm not really awkward - I just -"
I blink and decide to do what I did not do
last time. "I have Chronic Fatigue," I say.
Her expression softens. "I thought you seemed a bit tense," she says. "Shall we hurry you up?"
My shoulders relax with relief. "Please."
"So how did you get that then?"
"Well, it all started with glandular fever in January..."
Labels: diet, illness
You know you have a good job when you receive the following email from your boss:
I see from your blog you have a wedding to look forward to this weekend. Good luck with your health and I hope you enjoy the day as much as if it was your own. Can't wait for your wedding and on that subject can we have a picture of mindreader?
Labels: MindReader
Dear MindReader
I have been thinking about it for a while.
I am not well enough. But I owe it to you.
You, who have come around four, five times a week of late, getting up at 6am to drive back across the country to work. You, who watch the stars with me as the rain comes down and mists our faces. And you, who have cupped my face in your hands and whispered that you would be ill instead of me if you could.
So, I shall see you this Saturday at the church service of your sister's wedding. Not because I can, as I had hoped by this time, but because it is time I did something for you.
Billygean
Labels: illness, MindReader, wedding hell
In hindsight, even though I can't do anything most people can, I am still lucky.
Labels: illness, MindReader
A new email pops up onto my screen. It is from Acquaintance. I open it up.
I've been reading your blog, she writes,
and I've noticed you never let your readers see what MindReader looks like.
I smile.
No, I type back
, the blog got a bit more popular and I thought I had better protect people who didn't choose to write the blog.
Can I see a photo? She sends back, and I smirk and relent. Selecting one of
MindReader in Venice, a bright blue canal behind him and those wonderfully freckly, blond-haired forearms in view, I hit send.
God, she writes back, almost instantly.
He is ridiculously attractive.And I cannot help myself, I give a little
squee of pride.
Labels: MindReader
"I went to
Boots today," I say to
MindReader on the phone as I sink into the bath, "to buy green nail polish."
"Ooh," he says, "and how do you feel?"
"Okay," I say, "A little - heavy."
And he
mmm's. Because he understands.
"I bought you something though!" I say, "guess."
"
Umm... hair gel?"
"Nope."
"Hair
dye?"
"No, I love the blond,
I want your hair colour."
"Hm, a um - pony - tail -
alice band thing?"
I laugh. "A what?"
"A - pony band?" He says, and then pauses. "Imagine - four ponies - one on drums, one on guitar..."
Labels: illness, MindReader
"
Billygean," Head of Law College says.
"Ah, hello," I say, adding "stranger," and wincing as I say it. Luckily, he laughs.
"So," he says. "You're still ill."
"Yes."
"Well - good news," he says, "you can sit your exams next February despite the course changes. We figure someone can fill you in nearer the time. You're hardly stupid."
I close my eyes, sitting in the sunlight. "Thank you," I almost whisper, imagining that sentence as the end to the blog entry. Except I then go and have a
blonde moment.
"So what are you going to do now?" he says.
I think for a moment. "Probably sit in the sun and listen to Snow Patrol," I say.
"I er - I meant what next in your legal career," he says. "Although I do rather like Snow Patrol."
Labels: illness, law
