Day after day of relentless grey skies and cold rain and then, this morning, a miracle. This is the sky at 7.15 am, showing - yes - blue! And soft, subtle skeins of pink. Now the sun is out and my spirits are soaring.
The past three weeks haven't been good. First the cold, then the stomach bug, then the ulcer reminding me of its presence and last night, twinges of cystitis. Unable to get to sleep, and following three visits to the loo in two hours, I got up at one-ish and took half a teaspoon of bicarbonate of soda dissolved in warm water. Tastes vile but it does the trick. I have also put myself back on Omeprazole as I have some left over. I hope that taking 150 mg of Omeprazole every day for a week will calm my stomach and leave me fit enough to attend my daughter's birthday medieval rave-up in her little Devon village. Think pointy felt hats, strange boots, drinking horns and mock jousts performed on office chairs rather than horses, and drunken, tuneless performances of dirty ditties such as Chastity Belt.
For all ye who know not the lyrics, they are along the lines of, 'Alas, sir Knight Errant, I am not a maiden/I'm married to Sir Oswald, the cunning old c...Celt./He's gone to the wars for a twelvemonth or longer/And he's taken the key to my chastity belt.' Of course, the lady's new paramour just happens to know a locksmith. Even when you've heard it dozens of times, you still can't resist sniggering at the plodding puns and stumbling double-entrendres, especially after a few tankards of mead.
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