The Inevitable Sequel

 I suppose that the sequel to my last two entries was inevitable. I have been floored by something akin to a combination of the symptoms suffered by both Mister E and the eldest, although fortunately without the complications of the added infections that both endured.

Hence, since clerking a Parish Council meeting last Monday night, I have been  confined to the house, knocking back the Lemsip and Strepsils. Not quite potent enough to qualify me, it would seem, for nomination as the Conservative Party leader, but much needed in seeking to conquer an inflamed throat. On the plus side the rain has been falling in torrents and some days the temperature has struggled to reach double figures. So much for flaming June. There was a time when come the end of April my sandals would be on until September, bare toes wriggling in the fresh air. Staring down at my feet now, they are cosy in their socks and there is a fleece on the back of my chair.

It's all a far cry from last year when we enjoyed weeks and weeks of high temperatures and sunshine. My vegetable garden was set in record time and I spent hours watering it. This year I am still struggling to get all my seeds sown although traditional crops, like rhubarb, gooseberries and shallots, that wizened quickly in 2018 are today growing in abundance. The slugs too have returned, en masse.

At least if there had to be a week when I wasn't up to digging, I chose the right one.

Instead I have been enjoying the reality comedy from Westminster (if you don't laugh, you cry). It really is hard to believe that out of a pool of  313, the Conservative Party seems unable to nominate a decent leader not least when the previous two incumbents can hardly be accused of setting the bar particularly high. Obsessed with criticising our current political situation, none of them seems prepared to accept their own role in creating it. Strange times, and stranger yet to come.

There has been plenty of opportunity too to catch up with some reading, sorting paperwork and indeed anything that has involved neither speaking (the throat has been too sore) nor deep thought (brain mush). In fact, and it is all now a bit of a haze, but I did spend the best part of one day painting in the bathroom alongside Mister E. 

Awakening from my stupour, and in the interim the plumber having returned to complete the reinstallation of our sanitary ware, I have to say that the bathroom project is looking rather grand. There's still some finishing off to do (including touching up that fever stroked paintwork) before the grand opening and when photogaphs will, of course, follow. 

In the meantime, however, I have enjoyed a little retail therapy, another of those occupations that requires little energy or thought when conducted online. It's probably something to do with age but ordering new towels and accessories to match the decor has to be more pleasing than buying a dress and matching shoes.

All in all and despite feeling absolutely dreadful, it has honestly been a fulfilling way to spend a week. No crazy running around, exerting myself in exercise classes or even social chit chat. I know it's extreme, but perhaps I do need to be ill once in a while, just to take back control and relax.