Z crumbles

What does a woman do to show her appreciation for a man on such an occasion? I’d normally cook him a lovely meal, but he’s master of the lovely meals at present. I thought that maybe a cake would fit the bill, but then I saw the beautiful pink forced rhubarb. So I made a crumble. And he’s happy. I expect he’ll give me a kiss later…

It’s a bit awful to admit, but I’ve continued to sleep downstairs all this time. I was going to have the bed moved upstairs ten days ago, but Wink counselled against, and then again last weekend but Weeza advised me to keep it down here for my afternoon rest – and I was going to sleep in our own bed, but as I was so tired yesterday I couldn’t quite summon the energy to sort it all out. But tonight’s the night. I’m a bit doubtful, actually – I really wanted the bed to go up so that I could have a night or two in it before braving sleeping with my husband – for the last six weeks before the operation we disturbed each other quite a lot, and not in a good way, and I’m also a bit anxious that I’ll automatically cuddle up to him and turn on my side in a forbidden manner. Still, I miss him a lot and it’ll be wonderful to hold on to him as I go to sleep, even if it is with a pillow between my knees. *Sigh*.

In fact, I think I’ve blurred too much the space between being up and being in bed and it’s affecting how long it takes for me to get to sleep. In the first place, my trouble was being cold, but the nights are getting milder now and it’s not a problem. But I watch television, listen to music, fiddle with apps (currently working on national flags, which I find incredibly difficult to remember, as my brain learns by words, not pictures) and read when I wake during the night, and then if I’ve had a disturbed night, I get up late.

I’ve downloaded a book reading programme on to my phone – Weeza said that she tried one but didn’t like it, as she doesn’t like the back-lit print. But I don’t mind. It’s not like reading a book of course, but it’s a very useful substitute, especially when travelling. It’s often very inconvenient – I can’t bear to be caught without a book and, especially on holiday, have been found frantically searching for anything in English (or French, at a pinch) because I have read everything I’ve taken. I’ll usually take 6 or 8 books for a week’s holiday and always run out. Even for a train journey, I want two books, just to be on the safe side. The books on this app are all out of copyright, of course – at present, I’m reading Ford Madox Ford’s The Good Soldier and Benjamin Franklin’s autobiography, but it’s very good for reading in bed under the covers.

I’ve a feeling that you book-lovers are frowning at me.

8 comments on “Z crumbles

  1. Four Dinners

    You’ll get there kid. Trust me I’m from Oldham.

    You have a wonderful hubby and he just wants you well again – as do we all.

    Patience eh?

    Just read books and wait until YOU feel right.

    Wink knows her stuff and The Sage just wants you right again.

    Love n hugs

    4D xxx

    (and Caz who has been following this with me)

  2. martina

    I read Mr. Franklin’s Autobiography a few years ago. Very interesting but he seems a bit full of himself most of the time.

  3. Z

    Don’t encourage Wink too much – big sisters are bossy enough at the best of times. But thanks, honey – hello, Caz *waves*

    I suppose he had a lot to be full of himself about, on the whole, Martina!

    I suppose I’m used to reading on a screen, LOM- they do incorporate a ‘finger flick’ movement to turn the ‘page’ – it’s a matter of whether it’s the act of reading itself or whether it’s the physical book that comes first, perhaps.

  4. Dave

    I remember far more readily by pictures than words. Years after a pastoral visit I can describe someone’s house, cat, garden etc, but can I remember their name which I had written down? No.

  5. Z

    I don’t remember a name that has been told to me, but I do if I’ve seen it written down. And if I’m trying to remember a name, I’ll think of it by letters – eg, six letters, two syllables, accent on the first syllable – and try to do it by visualising it and imagining its rhythm.

    Which reminds me, I meant to mention to Martina that the most boastful autobiography I’ve read is Benvenuto Cellini’s.

  6. martina

    Zoe, you are right-the Cellini autobiography was dreadfully boastful. He was immensely talented but, as a friend’s daughter, says “not all that and a bag of chips”.


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