Characterised by creeping cold and dog tiredness. No amount of First Defence squirting seemed to help with the former, so in the end I resorted to stuffing so much Day Nurse and meltus down my throat that anyone watching me winding my way down the street first thing in the morning must have thought that I was some poor, sad wreck staggering home after a night of wild debauchery. Fat chance!
After the joys of Easter Day the week started off with a bang, metaphorically speaking – as due to a recurrence of what I can only describe as a childish ‘blip.’ spiritually, * I threatened to fall flat on my face. (Nothing like mixing your metaphors is there!). And this was before all the navel gazing, guilt – false or otherwise and self-recrimination – resulting in two night’s of disturbed sleep. On night three we went out for a works meal with Mr Miff’s team by which time the cold had struck with a vengeance and four hours sleep only meant that Wednesday saw me almost totally incoherent.
Not the best of timing, as that day saw me sallying forth to what I’ve privately christened ‘The Town of A Thousand Underpasses’ to discuss the ‘Seabird’ business with someone. How I managed I’ll never know; I even dropped off to sleep for a few minutes whilst she was fetching lunch, but colds and incoherence apart I was pleasantly surprised, and came out feeling a sight more confident about the whole process.
The resulting adrenalin rush saw me through Thursday – and I even managed to wake myself up enough to fit in an inbetween singing session in the afternoon. Ideas, please, for songs suitable for a none too strong alto. I’ve abandoned ‘Autumn Leaves,’ and would really like to go for something more classical. J is already doing ‘Che Faro’ from Orpheo et Euridice, so that’s out. We both had a peep at ‘Where E’er You Walk,’ OK, were it not so high. Ditto to ‘I Know That My Redeemer Liveth,’ which both of us would absolutely love to do. Let’s face it; I’m NOT a huge, statuesque 40″ DD busted soprano sweeping all before her. No amount of singing from my upper palate will change my voice from a plaintive warble to Katherine Ferrier like tones. Any suggestions for a slimline bunny with more enthusiasm than skill would be more than welcomed!
So to Friday and total exhaustion. Mr Miff having already departed for the wilds of Llandovery where he’s spending the weekend doing some serious cycling, it was left to Mstr Miff to be on Miffdog duty last thing at night, and for me to tackle the huge ironing mountain in time for the weekend. The former is equally exhausted after a week of GCSE PE assessments terminating in a hamstring injury. On the advice of his teacher I’ve booked him in for a physio session first thing on Monday morning, as we may need a letter for the exam board, (He had to stop partway through the last test).
Today’s been well…different. More ‘seabirding;’ to be more precise, travelling cross country, this time to meet some more folk involved. All on first impressions, very friendly – or maybe I’m becoming less backwards about coming forwards in my old age. Either way, it seems to be the right path to be taking…so far.
* Sadly the news came through early this week of the death of a much loved member of our church – which kind of put it all in perspective.