11th December 2012 Tuesday
I wake at 5am with a raw sore throat, thinking it’s 7am and I need to get up - so don’t go back to sleep.
Our lady decorator arrives to finish the second coat of paint on the woodwork. She’s quick and neat and cheerful - leaving her gentle presence in the walls.
I make a rooty vegetable soup for lunch, poach a thick slab of smoked haddock for supper, and peel potatoes and leeks to have with it.
My sister arrives to spend the day with me working on how to live on a budget while my husband spends the day with her husband walking in the frosty Quantock Hills.
We pour over the figures and make up guesstimates of how much I spend on food and loo rolls, haircuts and shoes, books and therapies, gifts and face cream and reduce it and reduce it to make it fit the monthly income. Like most people have to do. My sister holds my hand when I wobble, says it’s just a game we have to play.
I don’t know how to win this one but I’m going to try. Even though every time I think about it my stomach knots with shame and fear... the spectre of becoming diminished and mean hearted always hovering in the wings...
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