Stomach stops play again

My stomach is losing me friends. Time and time again, I have pulled out of arrangements on the day, because I don't feel well enough even to face the first stage of the journey, the getting to wherever it is on public transport. (Oh, how I wish I'd learned to drive!)

Yesterday, I ate some leftover spaghetti sauce (3 day old pesto that had been in the fridge) with pasta for lunch. I was brought up never to throw food away and to eat whatever was on my plate, so I couldn't bear the idea of just chucking it out. I had almost finished it when Mr G's friend with the battalion of small boys arrived out of the blue, so I bolted the last mouthfuls and got on with screaming at toddlers to put down the fire irons this instant and on no account to throw my camera onto the floor, while Mr G raced to throw a tarpaulin over the pond so they couldn't murder any more fish. There are only three left of the new lot of 29 because the kids threw pebbles into the pond that had been in contact with weedkiller. Because we weren't expecting them, we hadn't had a chance to child-proof the house.

Within half an hour I had started feeling nauseous. Several trips to the loo followed, then I developed cystitis symptoms. I have suffered this chain of events for decades. My GP has explained that when your gut is upset, your intenstines can bloat out and press on the bladder. It's bad enough having a stomach ache, but to get cystitis too is just not fair!

I had a front row ticket to see Pentangle last night at the Festival Hall, one of the rare concerts in their original line-up with guitarist Bert Jansch, who I worship. Mr G drove me to the station but once on the platform I started feeling so ill and wobbly that I rang my friend who I was going with and asked if her husband would like my ticket. At least that would save him having to drive from Bayswater to Waterloo and back twice, dropping her off and collecting her as she is even more phobic about Tube travel than I am.

Last night, I moped about, didn't eat anything else and went to bed at ten. I had a miserable night, tossing and turning in the heat, rubbing my stomach, getting up and down to the loo, and finally I got up at 6 am to make a cup of tea and found Mr G already up. I'd been awake since 5 but he'd woken up at 4!

Today, I was due to go across London to see the homeopath, then go on to a friend's in Barnet, spend the rest of the day with her, then spend the night and come back tomorrow. I feel so tired, drained, headachy and stomach-achy that I have texted both and cancelled. My friend will probably never speak to me again. She had a right go at me a few months ago. If you cancel her, she takes it personally as a sign that you don't care enough to make the journey to see her. I think this is unfair. If someone cancels me, I am understanding and never, ever hold it against them. (I can hear my phone bleeping downstairs... it's probably some cold, angry words from her. Oh dear...)

I can perfectly understand my friends getting frustrated with me. But we're all getting older and at 66, I just don't have the get up and go I had when I was 36, or even 46. Putting people under emotional pressure just makes them feel physically worse. Don't I know it! I think the older we get, the more sympathy, love and understanding we need to extend towards our friends. We should cherish them, make the most of the time we have left on this planet. We need to be able to discuss things, clear the air, laugh, be happy. There is no place for corrosive bitterness, envy or blame.

And now I shall steel myself to look at that text message...