I started the weekend in a somewhat filthy mood. It would have been easy to surmise that the blame for my dour demeanour should be placed solely on Callum’s departure on Thursday but he wasn’t the only guilty one. All my friends seem to be down with either a cold, the flu or a mixture of both since the New Year started so life has suddenly gone a bit blah. It doesn’t help that the main house is now empty of its family save Mumo now that all have returned to their own nests and everything seems strangely silent right now. It’s as though the party has been boxed up and put away until the warmer seasons creep in – all a bit depressing really. Mind you, a few months of semi-solitude will be good for me – there’s a book that won’t write itself and several pieces of furniture needing my attention let alone the garden. Denis and I are excitedly awaiting my Christmas present from Mumo, a serre (a sort of mix between a greenhouse and a poly tunnel) so we can start growing little seedlings before letting them out into the big wide potager.
Yes, my own not-so-little seedling has flown back across the vast seas to South Oz. I’m already missing him like crazy and I’m not the only one. The bedside lamp socket in Mumo’s bedroom decided to go on the blink as soon as the only electrically-capable family member left the country and neither Mumo or I can figure out how to get the filter out of her fridge to replace it. The night before he left, Cal and sat up in the apartment talking about our lives and Tony. I know I say it a thousand times a second but I am so proud of our boy. Considering how much he has gone through, he has turned into a confident, knowledgeable and sensitive young man. Driving to the airport on Thursday afternoon, I noticed him fiddling with my phone – it wasn’t until I got back to the car after dropping him off at the departure gate that I realised he’d synced his music playlist with mine. He has excellent taste in tunes. And as much as it tore at my heart waving good-bye to my gorgeous grown up son, there was also the worry about how he’d cope with the flight this time i.e. would he spend the entire time throwing up again or would my theory prove correct and the drugs would do their thing. It seems my research paid off and he landed with stomach intact – it wasn’t air sickness he was suffering from, it was altitude sickness. I’ll speak to him during the week when the jet lag dissipates.
With the weather reminding us what winter is all about last week, save the snow that was promised but never arrived, I kept myself busy hammering little gold nails into one of my current renovations, lop-sidedly I might add, whilst Denis planted a whole slew of giant cacti on the verge outside. One of the village residents had one too many growing in his garden so Denis went over and did a bit of uprooting and self-harm. With arms looking like he’d been hooked on heroin, scratched and pot-holed – my brave man repositioned the horned demons into their new habitat which I hope will stop the dog from round the corner attacking my lot through the front fence. I’m actually rather fond of such spiky sculptures and our new frontage has gotten many a thumbs-up from the locals. Apart from said dog that is.
Oh and by the way, I did eventually succeed in making a podcast on Spotify. A day late. I had set everything up and lines ready, hit record, did my spiel and pressed the publish button. Except said button refused to comply and my Ipad almost ended up in next-door’s garden. Temper flaring, I took the bloody thing over to Cal who promptly fiddled with it for two seconds and bingo, my podcast flew off into the ether that is media. I’ll have another go this evening as Callum is 9 hours ahead and I don’t want to wake him up when I can’t press the button again. Did I tell you what an amazingly gifted child I have?…
“Behind every great kid is a mom who’s pretty sure she’s screwing it up.” (Anon)
Widow plus woofs 