Z stays in her burrow

I remained awake from earlier than usual – it’s often between 3 and 4 am that leaves me with two or three hours to lie there before dropping off again, but last night it was 2 o’clock when I woke and stayed awake.  On waking, first I turn on to my back because my scar hurts, which is what wakes me (not the hip itself, that’s fine).  It is soon better, but  now I’ve started lying on my side I can’t sleep on my back any more, so I turn again.  I really want to lie on my left side, but I don’t know if that’s okay yet.

After a while, when it was apparent I was going to be awake for a while, I fished my phone out from under my pillow and turn it on to check for emails.  I read them – sometimes answer a few, but only if the Sage is soundly asleep as the keys tap slightly when typed.  I hide under the duvet so that the light doesn’t wake him either.  This morning, I didn’t write, but played a few games (the keys don’t tap when I’m playing) of patience and one of draughts and downloaded Angry Birds and played that, and then I read.  At present, I’m re-reading Vanity Fair.  Reading on the phone is by no means the same as a proper book, but it is all right, and certainly warmer, and has the advantage of not needing a torch.

After half an hour or so, I lay back and let my mind drift.  I remembered several emails I needed to send and made mental notes, including what’s to go in the next governors’ agenda.  I wondered what I could blog about next.  There are various things going on at school, but even when they’re not actually confidential, I can’t really talk about them except in the most general terms.  I would like to vent a degree of ire about another matter, but it is about someone and it would be too easy for that person to be identified, so better not mentioned.  I’d meant to be gardening again, if only in the greenhouse, but the weather is horrible and I’m staying put indoors as much as possible.  I can’t keep talking about dogs.  Nor my hip.

There’s nothing to talk about, I concluded.  Maybe I could just amuse?  I thought about entertaining topics and came up with a couple of thoughts.  “I’ll have forgotten those by the time I wake up again,” I reckoned, and indeed I have.

I thought about Mother’s Day, which is this Sunday.  In church, they’re very hot on you calling it by its proper name, Mothering Sunday, as Mother’s Day is a commercially-inclined import, but in fact even the churches treat it as a day for making a thing about mothers, so it’s not got its original meaning there either.  We’re planning to serve coffee and cakes before the service starts, and I seem to have assured everyone that I’ll make most of the cakes, which was more enthusiastic than wise of me.  I keep thinking I could do some baking early, things that improve with keeping, but I don’t seem to have made a start yet.

I’m not sure that winter is really over yet, whatever the calendar shows.  I’m still in a comfy state of near-hibernation.

12 comments on “Z stays in her burrow

  1. Sarah

    I’m glad you are at least comfy in your hibernation.
    I’m seriously fed up with this weather. It’s turning everything in my head to mush. I can’t shake this cough and everything I touch is falling apart. Hey ho. I need an adventure!

    It will soon be wall building time again.

  2. Dave

    I don’t treat it as a day for celebrating mothers during my services, but stick to mother church. However, as there’s so much pressure from folk for me to say sentimental things about mothers instead, Mothering Sunday is the one day in the year which I now block, and say I’m not available.

    If you want to vent your ire with the clergyman who should be building your wall, but who is isntead planing a short holiday in Yorkshire (first week in June, should you wish to arrange to be otherwise occupied yourself) and will be going to the West Country at some stage to build a stable, do carry on. No-one will work out who you’re writing about.

    PS I’ve given up worrying about grammar, as that last sentence demonstrates.

  3. Z

    Another friend of mine has had a cough for the last two months and can’t get rid of it. This tail end of winter thing is a real bugger.

    No ire with you, Dave, and there’s nothing I’d say behind your back that I wouldn’t to your face, unless it’s such praise as to make you embarrassed. I’m away for a week from 19th May myself. We’ll get the wall done at some time.

    “About whom you are writing” would sound hopelessly stilted. “Writing about” may not be grammatically perfect, but I think it’s better English – if this were a formal document, it would be a different matter.

  4. mago

    Style … I sometimes wonder how that may appear, what bells it may ring, what I write.
    This winter is definitely not over. Only after Easter it will vanish. We have a coldcold wind here and snow is forecasted again for the coming weekend. I really wish May would be here.

  5. Z

    We had a few days of sunny weather to give us hope, but it’s cold and depressing again now. I hope we don’t have any more snow. Snow is fine in January, but not in the middle of March.

  6. Z

    Oh, you’re teasing me. Of course not. It’s no one in blogland, it’s someone in real life. None of my family either, before it occurs to anyone to wonder.

  7. nerd

    For stealth emailing and texting under the duvet, you can turn the typing sounds off in ‘settings’ then ‘sounds’, scroll to the bottom and turn off ‘keyboard clicks’

  8. Anonymous

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  9. Wink

    Just to put it in context – the leopard is called Bobby – apparently I called it after our mother’s dog when I was little – don’t think Z was anything but a twinkle in our parents’ eyes at the time!

  10. Z

    It’s supposed to be the British who always talk about the weather – and we do, constantly – but it seems we’re not the only one.

    Thank you, Nerd, I did it straight away. While still in bed.

    Anon, now I have an iPhone, I don’t bother to wear a watch any more. I certainly don’t want a Chanel replica. Go away.

    In due course, I danced in, in a twinkling cloud of fairy dust. Ahem.


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