This morning I reflected on my conversation and chuckled to myself. I had to make the family realise just how yucky I was feeling and the only thing I could measure my weakness on was if Chris Martin was in our garden I would be unable to get to him. Anth thought I would somehow conjure up the energy to get to him but I tearfully told him that I couldn't and he would get away. Forever.
"I'm feeling no better, there must be something seriously wrong with me, how can this be taking so long..." I wailed to the family yesterday evening. "If Chris Martin came into our garden I could not chase after him and he would get away..."
"Mmm, maybe that's a good thing," said Lucy.It was a strange day yesterday. Alice started a week of work experience at my school (where I work). She was in my class and came back with shining eyes and wide smiles and wonderful stories of the children. My children. My favourite was how she and the teacher noticed a wet patch on the carpet after the children had got up and they had to discreetly look at 30 bottoms as they filed out of the classroom to see if there was a matching wet patch on someone's uniform. I miss that.
Today, I'm not so tearful. I feel stupid and selfish when I cry but I just wish my arms and legs would go back to normal. Normal, but a little skinnier would be fine by me and strong enough to sprint after Chris if he ever wandered into our garden by mistake. Any time soon will do. Please.