I peer disconsolately into the mirror. I’m looking tired, which at my time of life equates with old. I try a smile. The Frankie Howerd jowls turn into thick creases round my eyes, which remain flat and unamused. I reflect that I will never look at my face without make-up on again, ever.
I’m not feeling entirely at my best. On Saturday, I got a bit of carrot stuck in my throat, which is the result of eating a lot of raw food and never properly chewing. The bit of carrot is still there. It’s not moved up or down, and for the last couple of days has given me a sore throat and, since last night, a headache. This seems an unlikely side-effect, but I rarely have a headache and I went to bed with one, woke with it in the night, hadn’t shed it by this morning and it all seems connected with the general throat-hurtiness.
However, today’s post cheered me somewhat, as it contained several birthday cards and a present, and a postcard/birthday card from Dave. It also brought an appointment at the hospital in Norwich for next week, with a requirement for me to phone to confirm or change it. Ominously, they want my credit card number at the same time so that I won’t have to trouble to pay the bill before I leave. Although the consultant will send me a bill separately. Lovely. At least I have a name now, so I can look him up before I go.
I’m all alone for the day, which is quite unusual. Even if I don’t see Dilly and the children, they’re usually there and so is the Sage, bustling in and out – he’s always busy. But he left early this morning for London, and Dilly came in happily a couple of hours ago, saying that she’d decided to take the children back to the coast for the rest of the week, because the weather’s so lovely. Her parents went to visit them and they stayed on in the tent, so it’s still up and this (for Dilly is immensely polite) will save them having to take it down. Pugsley will have nursery school tomorrow and so she’s planning to come back early, spend most of the day here, then go back again. Additionally, Squiffany is going to be visited at home by her teacher tomorrow afternoon, so they do need to be here. And, as Dilly said charmingly, they want to see me on my birthday.
Feeling stale, flat and unprofitable as I am, I’m most inclined to curl up on the sofa all day with an array of books and a big bowl of fruit, but the sun is shining and I mustn’t succumb to this sort of self-indulgence. At least, not before lunch.