end of the drought!

My garter has just been favourited on Ravelry! I must be a real knitter!!

LVIII

Not too bad a birthday weekend, all considered. Pub after work to meet Mr Lily and friends, quite happy to sit knitting on my own on comfortable seat inside while t'others puffed and shivered on the benches outside. Pleasant meal, baled out after a couple of hours - still a long way from party animal mode. Lovely daughter persuaded me to open some of her presents to me, excellent thoughtful choices.

Saturday shopping with mum. I don't need to say anything here, do I? Not a peep from her re the big event on Sunday. Escaped earlier than usual for a bit of (unsuccessful) retail therapy before going out for gorgeous meal with friends (and another birthday celebrant) at a local Indian restaurant. Husband fesses up over the 'buying my present' farce...he'd bought me a silver love knot necklace but when he showed it to lovely daughter she informed him he'd bought me the same necklace last year. No, says he, yes says she, furnishing the evidence. Its a different knot says he. It wasn't. Daughter took necklace back to shop. Funny thing though, before hearing the story, I chose that very necklace to wear to the birthday meal!

Sunday. Lovely lazy day. Opened the rest of my presents. Knitted a lot. Watched TV. Annointed sparkling tresses with the fountain of youth otherwise known as Clairol Nice'N'Easy. Beloved son (loved up in Bournemouth) phones to wish me happy birthday and says he phoned granny but she couldn't hear him. However, she did have a moan about my 'whisking him away' when he last visited. He promised to write to her and explain he had to catch a train, he's also going to suggest she give the amplified phone another go. Put glad rags on and sat (knitting) outside local hostelry with friends in the sunshine, keeping a wary eye on the thunder clouds blowing in all around us. Went for a late traditional Sunday lunch at a country pub, delicious. Home and mum phoned to wish me happy birthday (I got the distinct impression she'd only just remembered) and to have a little moan.

Should have taken the car in for a service this morning and had the rest of the day off. Cancelled service as running late and couldn't be bothered and anyway I wanted to knit, I'm just at a tricky bit, trying to add lettering to a baby's jumper. Tidied up the front room. Went into work this afternoon to finish reports for a meeting I won't be at tomorrow because I'm having Tuesday off too - more knitting and tidying and taking mum for her B12 jab.

Apologies if that was really boring but one day, when my last marble rolls down the drain, I might need to know what I was doing when my brain cells were still functioning. Just.

more doom and gloom

Tuesday night at mum's. After two hours of Mistress Hyde, Dame Jekyll made a welcome appearance and hung around for an hour before I left. I reminded mum that I wouldn't be coming on Wednesday (I rarely do).

Wednesday night at home. Mr Lily has prepared a feast in honour of his wife's rare appearance at the dinner table. I pick up my fork and the telephone rings. Mr Lily answers and attempts to explain to mum that I'm not going tonight, he's cooked a meal for me. At some point she puts the phone down on him. My heart sinks. What should have been a relaxing evening is overshadowed by anticipating mum's displeasure on Thursday.

Thursday night at mum's. All seems well at first, if you ignore the usual 'take-me-to-live-with-you heavy hints. Finally she asks "where were you last night?", "at home", says I. "No you weren't" says mum. "Yes I was, Mr Lily made tea for me and lovely daughter" I reply. "Well why did he answer the phone?" "Because he was nearest!" "I don't like talking to him, I'll just phone you at work in future." As the evening wore on she threw in a few mean comments, describing Mr Lily as "ignorant" and referring to some make-believe incident where I'd put a note saying 'keep out' in my purse to stop him going in it!?! (In the past she's also claimed that he gave beloved son 'a good hiding' when he was young and that's why he never came home from University??!!) It occurs to me for the first time that these stories, for that is all they are, link back to tales she has told me of her father's behaviour towards her and her brother in their youth. Is she confusing Mr Lily with her dad? Over tea she suddenly says "its a good job you don't want me, I'd be miserable living with him (Mr Lily). I bite my tongue.

The retirement flats we went to see at Nunthorpe some time ago, just opposite her sainted doctor and a row of shops, are advertising a £27,000 reduction in price until the end of July. She is considering taking another look. I'm not holding my breath, she didn't like the look of them the first time and the built in kitchen includes a microwave set far too high up.

The new cardigan hasn't left the hanger yet.

Its my birthday on Sunday and right on cue to celebrate the occasion, a massive cold sore has appeared on my top lip. It gave me a rather attractive pout before it got to the yellow alien invader stage. Shoot me now. Please.

I've been a very naughty girl

I had supervision today. I thought it was going quite well until right at the end my boss took me to task about some shocking behaviour on my part. Apparently I caused some consternation in a recent team meeting when I got up and went to the kitchen (within spitting distance and in full view of the team) and made myself a cuppa soup. Well it was either that or sink into the arms of Morpheus. I'd been fighting insensibility for about half an hour and knew I just had to do something to wake myself up. I thought it was a jolly good idea. Apparently I was wrong. Apparently, in future, I am to request a five minute comfort break for all, should I feel narcolepsy beckoning. Ye gods, you'd think I'd buggered the bursar.

oh-oh

There's something definitely not right with me. I tried to get on with Mr Lily's business books early this afternoon but within minutes my brain was whimpering 'I can't do it, its too hard, I'm closing down'; exhaustion and anxiety drove me to my bed around 1pm. I slept and slept until 9pm. I feel restless and like last night and the night before, I'm putting off going to bed until I'm so tired that I can't keep my eyes open any longer. The house is a tip but I can't be bothered to tidy up, I just want to knit. Knit and sleep.

Maybe I'm wrong to blame the usual suspect, but it doesn't help that without fail, no matter how well the day has gone with mum, when she sees me getting ready to leave she always, always, starts on the 'I shouldn't be living alone, its too much for me, its the loneliness that's the worst' (if you were a good daughter you would be taking me in to live with you) guilt trip that sits on my shoulder all the way home and for ages afterwards until topped up at the next visit. Sometimes I even think I should try it and then I imagine all the things she would find fault with and having to play piggy in the middle between her and my husband and I just can't face it. Maybe I will try a counsellor but when would I have the time to go?

I've finished mum's cardigan!!!

In the middle is a pretty accurate representation of the colour and texture of the yarn used.

Sorry about the rather poor (mobile) photos of the cardigan which is actually rather lovely, very spring-like and very soft and cosy. It also fits mum like a glove and she says she likes it!

If you click on the photos you'll be able to see my handiwork in much more detail (and mum's threadbare carpet...that's another story altogether).

how it is

I'm still tired, more so maybe. This morning I thought "5 more minutes" after Mr Lily got up for work and woke up two hours later. I was half an hour late for work. The woman with whom (!) I share an office seemed to be talking uncomfortably loudly today, unusual for her. I can't get out of second gear at work. All I want to do is knit. My mother is losing no opportunity to drop heavy hints about no-one caring/shouldn't be living alone and is clearly aggrieved when I fail to take the bait. I'm feeling powerless in the face of her dissatisfaction.

I think my underlying depression is cranking up a notch.