Cherished

24th November 2011 Thursday

No great words tonight - feeling emotional and tired.

This afternoon I’m in the middle of reading a poem to my father by Thomas Babington Macaulay called Horatius( “Hold the bridge with me!”) when he starts to cough and says,

‘I want to be sick’.

I can’t find a bowl in the bathroom and the wodge of tissues I hand to him doesn’t do the trick. We ring for a carer. She takes away his shirt and vest and cardigan to the laundry. I take away the arm chair covers. After a long time, when he’s back in his reclining chair he asks me to finish reading the poem which has seventy verses. He says he has known and loved it since he was 14 years old and,

‘It still stirs my blood’.

I suppose the poem is about heroes and saving the day....

Tonight my husband is my hero - he cooks the supper so that I can write emails. He even grills the smoked salmon which I’d never have thought of doing. It tastes particularly good with his pasta and tomato sauce. And I feel especially cherished.