18th April 2012 Wednesday
The nice woman in Neal’s Yard makes up a special cream with six different essential oils dropped into it for my husband’s sore skin. He’s had a reaction to the steroid cream the dermatologist prescribed for the eczema on the side of his head. Now the top of his ear is inflamed. I buy him a soothing balm meant for babies’ skin, a big pot of rose scented body lotion for me and some other bottles. I spend so much that she gives me a free calico bag with double handles to carry it all in.
Wind and rain swirl round the garden - can’t seem to get warm - our salad lunch doesn’t satisfy me. I stir a spoonful of coconut oil into a cup of hot vegetable bouillion for a quick soup. Later I find myself prowling in the kitchen, opening cupboards, the fridge, looking for something to fill me up, warm me, even though I’m not really hungry. I make up a liquid version of Halva - mix a dollop of tahini with a scoop of creamy honey - it does the trick for a little while. Then I feel empty again.
Tonight in the dark of the cinema we dip into a box of salty popcorn. The film is in Norwegian with subtitles which we didn’t realise or we wouldn’t have come. My husband can’t read them fast enough so misses most of the plot. I miss it too because I’m looking away or down at the popcorn to avoid the blood and gore on the screen. ‘Don’t bother to explain it to me,’ says my husband in the car on the way home. Not sure I could anyway.
Pasta for supper - farfalle with red pepper sauce, wild garlic, smoked salmon and spinach.
Usually ultimate comfort food but now my jeans feel too tight, and I have a gnawing space inside me which I know isn’t pasta shaped.
At least my skin will be perfumed with roses tonight.
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