The Best Laid Plans

Friday was my last day at work for a while. The last couple of weeks have been…intense culminating in a late night session running in to the early hours of Friday morning (3 am since you ask). I spent all day Thursday feeling a bit under the weather and as the evening wore on into Friday morning, I felt worse and worse. At one stage I went around closing all the windows in the room we were working in as I was cold although nobody else was. I’ve been a bit sick on and off over the past couple of weeks but repeated Covid tests were happily negative.

I decided to cycle home rather than get a taxi after the marathon session to 3 am because I didn’t want to abandon my bike. As I cycled home through the summer city night, I felt quite dizzy. Perhaps, I thought, because I was tired. I dragged myself from bed the next morning at 10 having passed a sickly night. I took a last Covid test and, wouldn’t you know it, it was positive. I broke the news to colleagues and I sincerely hope that I haven’t given it to anyone – so far so good but my window closing antics can’t have helped I fear – I got a laugh from one sympathetic message which said: “Conscientious to the end, getting sick in your own time.”

Yesterday and Friday I was absolutely miserable. Today, I’m ok really, it’s just like a head cold. I do wonder if I could have two things together because I’m surprised that Covid alone would make me so ill given that I have all the vaccinations.

On Friday night I was due to collect Daniel from the airport and hear all about his trip to Rome. Mr. Waffle was at a dinner. Mr. Waffle had a sober dinner and collected Dan later. I still haven’t been able to talk to him in person and I would like to give him a hug, now that he’s home. Preliminary indications are that he had a good time. He brought me Daim bars from the airport and Pecorino cheese from Rome and I have been sustaining myself on these delicacies. And everyone was right, he was able to get himself to and from Rome by plane with no difficulty even though the flights were delayed both ways.

Poor Michael has been entirely neglected by his mother for the past week and I was hoping to see a bit more of him over the weekend but alas, our only engagement is him leaving food parcels and pots of tea outside the bedroom door for me.

Yesterday, for my first day off, I was planning to go to a talk at the Dalkey book festival with a friend. She had booked lunch after, we were both really looking forward to it. Sadly, this is where I spent my Saturday.

I was due to get the ferry to England on Monday morning, stay with a friend in Shrewsbury and then collect herself and her belongings and come back home. We are considering a range of logistical alternatives and it will all be fine but I have to say, I was really, really looking forward to the trip. Oh well, another time. She was at her ball last night and I have photos which show a lot of imagination in relation to eye make up. Successfully, if you ask me.

Meanwhile I am confined to my bedroom. Mr. Waffle has brought up the desktop for me to play with, so expect regular blog updates. Though not a lot is happening to me so maybe not. The downstairs bathroom and the temporary shower in the utility room [we got it put in when we were doing the upstairs bathroom and it is so unutterably hideous that I had suppressed its very memory but it’s still there just waiting for its chance to shine] have been assigned for my use. Sometimes it’s hard not to feel judged.

Oh and today is Father’s Day. You would have to feel for Mr. Waffle given the very limited service that has been available.

Incidentally I am in the throes of discovering that every single chair is uncomfortable and reading in bed doesn’t have as much to recommend it as I had previously thought. My back is killing me.

And a last piece of news from next door. Their misfortunate daughter has Covid again. I think that’s the fourth time. As always, things could most assuredly be worse.