Much faffing about has been done by me as I toy with the idea of closing this blog down altogether, giving it a less offensive (but frankly twee) name or starting completely from scratch. In the meantime I have missed writing about a diverse summer, involving a magnificent trip to Turkey, Glastonbury, the sad chasm between non-parent friends and myself, the beginning of The Book, a job offer that I had to decline (because I got offered an even better one) and a whole load of other stuff which would have probably made good blog fodder.
Summer is always a funny time because I found out I was pregnant on 7th July and I struggle to get past that milestone every year without looking back. Now it’s been five years and it feels like we’re officially up and running and I don’t really want to hark back to all that horrible stuff from the beginning. I used to gaze for ages at 2005 but now I am happy with a quick, cursory glance. It felt as though the name of this blog was something very negative, because it came from that horrible email I got, telling me to enjoy my shitty, snotty, vomitty twenties. The thing is, I suppose the whole point of the blog is that I did get that email and I am enjoying my shitty, snotty, vomitty twenties a lot, thank you very much. So really, it is a positive name. And they are shitty sometimes, to be honest. And I have just over two years of them left, so maybe I should make the most of being able to write a blog about being in my twenties at all, be they shitty or not, while I can.
Tom is off school with chicken pox. Not a false-alarm, or an allergic reaction, or a heat rash, or a non-specific viral rash but the actual, genuine chicken pox. At last. It really isn’t as dramatic as I remember it being when I was a child. I used the calamine lotion once because it felt like my duty as a mother to douse him in it, but he hasn’t actually complained of itching. The smell of the calamine lotion transported me back to Mum’s grey plastic medicine basket. I remembered everything being calpol-sticky and there never being a plaster the right size for the wound in question. I don’t own a medicine box. Someone told me that bicarbonate of soda baths would fix the chicken pox quicker, so I went to Morrisons and bought four tubs. I kept asking for bicarbonate of sober. My bath has never looked so clean! And Tom’s spots have healed pretty fast too: I think it is time for me to send him back to school for his last week before summer. The living room is littered with remnants of his week off, like his Super Duper Computer (a piece of cardboard folded in half, with keys and a screen drawn on the inside to make it look like a laptop) and plates full of Soreen crumbs. Actually, we have pretty much lived off Soreen recently and a few weeks ago, I turned down a big promotional box of it because I don’t do reviews. Does that count as product placement? It is actually true. I might email the Soreen person again…
I wrote a blog post from paradise (the camp we found in Turkey) in my notebook, I’ll put it up here soon. Until then, here’s a couple of sunrises – one from Turkey and one from Glastonbury. Both felt really good to look at in real life.