Opening my eyes after a disturbed night, I was relieved to the see the daylight. As I pulled back the blankets the cold air hit me. Jaysus, had I fallen asleep in a freezer? Not having a timer for my heating is a bit of a bummer on winter mornings but on this particular day, it was actually a plus. Covered in sweat from head to toe, the coolness of the room was as refreshing as it was shocking.
Shuffling towards the bathroom to deposit the contents of my bladder, a teensy weensy bit of alarm was slowly seeping into my brain as I remembered the list of symptoms of that feckin beer virus. Could they not have named it something else. For those who enjoy beer (can’t stand the stuff myself ) it represents something enjoyable. Well there’s nothing enjoyable about any virus, so who was the clown who had come up with that name. The only thing it has in common with Corona is that maybe if you drink too much of it you might feel just as shite the next day as you do with the symptoms of THE actual virus.
I was back in my bed all of about two minutes later, realising that I had slept very late, when my mobile rang. ‘Morning sweet cheeks’ came the chirpy sound of my homeless flatmate, bless her cotton socks. My self isolation, forcing her return home to the land of Mum and Dad hadn’t upset her in the least. Sure they’re a lovely pair, her Mum and Dad, likely delighted to have her temporarily return to the fold. I couldn’t help but smile as she asked me to go to my window and there she was, across the road, bouncing up and down, all five feet nothing of her, in her white cotton plimsoles (no-one on this planet could keep them as clean as she, sure when they get a speck or two of dirt, she bins them and buys more). We laughed together on the phone for about 3 minutes, then, mother of divine Jesus, she whirled around, stuck her arse in the air and TWERKED!! Passers by of advanced age, looked at her, puzzled, nudging each other and hurrying along, looking from side to side as if somehow they might see the little men in the white coats racing towards my bouncing buddy, to take her back to asylum.
Now being an aul one who likes to look for the silver lining in every cloud, no matter if it’s the darkest cloud in the sky, with torrential rain falling from it, I looked for something to cheer me up. Automatically my hands went straight to my tummy, likely subconsciously thinking of my go to comfort, food. However, to my surprise, said tummy seemed a litter flatter than usual. WHOOP WHOOP, I’ve lost some weight I thought, after just a day. I was somewhat puzzled though, as I’d consumed every bit of chocolate or crisps in my home, the evening before, goodies that should have lasted me at least a week. My justification was that I wouldn’t be able to get out and get some more and I had instructed one good friend, not to drop chocolate on my doorstep from the goodness of her heart. I was quickly brought back to earth, when I walked into my front room and literally felt my thighs rub together. What the feck! When did I start putting on weight there first. Mother Nature must be having a dark moment. Not nice Ma Nature, playing tricks on aul ones like that.
Some hours and much Netflix later, I got a call from my youngest son, with whom I was to have had lunch with, over the weekend. Returning from a work gig in London, he was in great form and keen to keep our weekend plans. Other than ordering space suit type clothing or he sitting fifteen feet across from me, I couldn’t think how we were going to manage that. However it would be the one occasion when my loud voice would be an advantage, rather than sometimes embarrassing. My recently acquired hearing aids hadn’t yet adjusted my volume, but they just might help me hear him from fifteen feet away. One thing was for sure, he would definitely hear ME.
Well my young fella had no flies on him. He had a plan. An ingenious plan. He offered to pay for an Italian takeaway which I should accompany with a glass of wine, or a prosecco and orange juice, a Bellini, I think he called it. I should then, open my laptop and contact him at an appointed time, when he would be sitting in his home, with something similar and we would have our meal together and an hour long catch up. Now the ingenuity was not only in the planning of the meal, but in the timing. By saying we would chat for an hour, what he really meant was ‘I’ll listen to you rabbiting on for an hour’ and as sure as I’m an aul one in lockdown, that young fella would say, after an hour ‘Okay Mum, your time is up’ and the call would be ended. Well I clapped my hands with delight, visualising the culinary delights I could order and having a glass of wine with him, as if I was actually out and about, would be the icing on the proverbial cake.
CAKE, I’m sure I could ask one of my besties to drop some cake on my doorstep earlier that day, so I’d have pudding or dessert as we Irish call it, for afters. OOh, the excitement..I’d wash and style my hair, put on a nice outfit, feel like I’m actually going out. It’d be amazing….once I didn’t have that aul beer virus that is…..13 MORE FECKIN DAYS!