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Friday, 16 November 2007

Wistful

It has surely only been a day since I last sat down to write. But no, my blog tells me not. Clearly, I have been busy elsewhere,doing other things, living another life.

Clearly.

Last weekend, I was visited by pestilence. You may remember that the previous weekend, the house was also visited by pestilence. It seems to be a regular occurrence. You may want to have a look for your umbrellas, because we are evidently due a downpour of frogs. This time, the plague was upon me. The same plague that had visited my son the week before. It was not nice. Not nice at all. In between the clear inconvenience of vomiting, there was also much whining, and woe is me-ing. I'm not a model patient, by any stretch of the imagination.

It is probably fortunate that I live on my own.

I recovered bravely to return to work on Wednesday, more of the same blah blah blah there, so clearly that cannot be responsible for my lack of an appearance at my PC at home. I think it may have been a teeny weeny amount of reluctance on my part to come back.

Not that I don't still enjoy it, far from it.

But if you remember, I was meant to be meeting him on Monday night. For our first coffee since.... well, you know. And I couldn't go, because I was ill. I sent him a text message to apologise, saying I wasn't well, maybe we could try another time. I drifted back to sleep, worn out by the sickness and plague. And was awakened not too long after at 8 in the morning, by him leaving a message on the answerphone. Was I OK? Could I drop him a text to let him know? Of course we could arrange another time. I thought it a bit odd, after all, it was early for a Monday, you know? About lunchtime, I did as I was bid.

I lay in bed until the afternoon, then moved location to laying on the sofa. A change is as good as a rest, they say. And I no longer needed to be within sprinting distance of the bathroom. A fairly rapid jog would now cover it. I wondered if this was a warning that I was trying to meet him too soon. I would have accepted a brief note, a rap on the walls, or a ghostly voice. Plague seemed a bit extreme.

I phoned him in the evening to let him know I was feeling a little better, and to provoke the plague gods a little. How much worse could they make it? He told me he'd been worried when he got my text, I hadn't told him what was the matter. That's why he'd phoned. We chatted a while, idle chatter, nothing significant.

He told me he missed me. And I told him I missed him too. And I do.

Nothing significant.

Not any more.

4 comments:

belle said...

Oh sweet pea! Plague, pestilence and insignificance (I would have gone for a third 'p' but that champagne has ruined my vocabulary). I missed you this week. It may seem like insignificance to you but for those of us who hang on your words it's been an age of time. Glad you're better. Come and stay again soon.

Manic Mother Of Five said...

Chicken soup, soothed foreheads and masses of sympathy being sent your way........

Really don't know what to say about HIM....... Am torn between the Gallic way you seem to have shrugged your shoulders and accepted things to wanting to scratch his eyes out and give him a right good slapping for not having the sense to realise what a catch you so obviously are.

Keep me posted............

Swearing Mother said...

Hmmmm.... it ain't over till the obviously very slim and lovely lady sings, or something like that.

Tina said...

Belle, I will, that would be lovely.

MMOF, you are my sort of person. But as well as the Gallic, there has also been some Greek style cursing & wailing, some Italian gesturing and some hysteria from I know not where. And I will.

SM, you're nodding sagely again, aren't you? There is always something there I think. And for you & anyone else who's not bored by the whole damned business, I'll maybe spend a couple of posts on why that might be.