It’s lunch time on Thursday, and I’ve had four weeks of thoughts, feelings and events condensed into four days. Work isn’t going well this morning; I’m just watching the Olympics and avoiding emails. Noon hits, and in one second I’ve Ctrl+Alt+Deleted my laptop shut and am heading downstairs hungry, tired and grumpy. Only cheese can save me.
Fridge: what have you got in your cold but loving belly. Some standard cheddar in the back behind the mustard. That will do. But wait, there is some prästost that my housemates brought me from Ikea, that I haven’t even opened yet! There is some Ryvita in the cupboard that that will go very well with. With the cheeses in my left hand I close the fridge with my right, until I spot it in the corner of my eye. A tiny cling-filmed slice, but it’s still there. The truffle-layered brie from the new deli on Mill Road, that cost something like £7/100g. Come to mamma.
Crackers, juice, tea, fruit, chutney, butter, some shortbread for good measure. Sweden fight Team GB in the women’s curling round robin, and I eat and eat and eat. And then I lie down. Just for a bit. Just with a blanket. Just resting my eyelids, just for a moment. And then I sleep. For way too long, but also not enough.
And I feel like a new human, ready to start over in hope and joy.