Today’s post is brought to you by the power of paracetamol.
I wasn’t very well yesterday. I felt fine while I was lying down, but as soon as I stood up I felt the desire to: a. lie down and b. throw up. This led to me spending most of the day lying in bed feeling like an absolute fraud while Mr PC did all the necessary moving of children from place to place, interspersed with attempts to get up and instant regret. By the evening I felt well enough, dosed with paracetamol, to come downstairs, put the washing which had been waiting to be hung out since 7am on to dry, and write a few more words of my novel. Not enough to keep up with where I should be, but better than nothing.
Today I was more prepared. I had paracetamol and a glass of water by my bed so the moment I woke up I could take them, then lie in for a few minutes until they started to work. Hence, the school run was managed. I was quite careful this morning when crossing roads, aware that with my usual quick glances up and down the road, combined with a still fuzzy head, I was not noticing some quite important things. Like cars. It leads me to wonder how many accidents are caused by people feeling they have to be out and about when they should really be tucked up in bed with a Lemsip.
The school run, yes. We are now a week into the new half term. Mr 5 has officially reached the ‘I’m not tired!’ bedtime tears stage. He has also been learning. Oh yes, phonics. I have spent the last year failing to get through the SATIPN Jolly Phonics workbook. This morning, after less than a week of official phonics learning at school, he was wandering round, his finger to his lips, – anyone who has experienced jolly phonics will see this picture perfectly, – saying, ‘P, P, P, See! The air is blowing out the candle.’ Remind me never to try to become a teacher.
Anyhow, must dash, I’ve a novel to write. (12,843 words down, 37,157 to go this month)