Nothing comforts me....

It rains all day.

 After the filling this morning my mouth is numb with novocaine for hours.

I crave something soft and spiced and hot for when I can eat again.

For comfort.

I read Italian, Indian, Middle Eastern recipe books

 for risottos and pilaus and pilaffs.

In the end I cook up a pan of Saffron Rice

 fragrant with star anise,  all spice, black pepper corns, clove, crushed cardamon seeds

and creamy sweet with coconut milk.

And let it cool to absorb all the flavours 

so I can have it for supper later.

With eggs and broccoli.

 A dear friend comes for tea and talk,

I watch The Good Fight on catch up on Iplayer, 

I wear my favourite old cashmere jumper 

and read my book wrapped in a blanket

on the sofa.

But nothing comforts me today.

I only want the living breathing flesh and blood 

and warmth of 

my husband's arms around me.

Nothing else will do.

So nothing is what I have.

Today

that hopeful Open Space

where anything can happen

just feels like a cold empty draught 

at my back.