Nightmare Week

With the projects almost over, and new baby project on the needles, you would have thought last week would be an awesome one. I thought so. And I thought wrong.

Unfortunately, there is no other words to explain what happened last week except that it was a total nightmare. I think the fact I could make some knitting progress could be called a miracle. I am not being hyperbolic or anything…

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what a weird lighting… not at all looking like my project -_-”

First of all, my husband was ill. Not just the sort of “slightly under the weather” ill that would disappear after a warm cuppa and a nice cuddle while watching Bones re-run, it was an all out sick. I was considering calling 999 to get him taken to the A&E but he refused. Being British, he thought that it was not a life or death situation, and he did not want to cause an unnecessary trouble for the doctors and nurses in the hospital.

I know, right? It doesn’t make sense, but I had my phone in hand, so if he did pass out, I would definitely dial the emergency. But he didn’t pass out… unfortunately it also means that he would have to endure all the discomfort the whole night.

Obviously, he didn’t go to work the next day.

I wasn’t tiptop myself. I apologise in advance if this is a slightly uncomfortable feminine thing to talk about. But you know that sometimes, just before that time of the month, you would have that period of time when everything just go wrong and you would have to endure the whole week of migraine. Well… yes… that was the exact week I was talking about.

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one down… five to go… 

So, last week, it was almost impossible to enjoy sitting and knitting. I barely have time to breathe. Both of us were cranky, and stuck together because none of us were fit enough to go out unless when it is time to get some food. But then again, we wanted to avoid take away food as much as possible, as it was probably what set up DH’s illness.

Aaaanyway… Hopefully this week things get better. I can’t handle another week like last one… not in near future.

x ❤ x

Worries…

I was trying to compose something about my holiday in Indonesia, and I did try hard. But somehow nothing came out right.

It was definitely an exciting holiday. I remember us being so enthusiastic — preparing, packing up, getting my husband proper vaccination and malaria pills. Even with my husband personal feelings towards flying, the flight wasn’t too bad — I admit having Deadpool on the in flight entertainment did help a lot in distracting my husband from thinking about flying.

of course having red wine on our aeroplane meal helped too...

of course having red wine on our aeroplane meal helped too…

I remember the train journey and how we ended up exceedingly tired because of the delay — the engine breakdown. I remember the party, and my sisters and my brother. And my parents who were so happy about having the complete set of family members in one room — something that is rarely happen recently due to us being away from home.

But when I tried to compose them to a story. It just don’t come out right.

Once I set my feet at Norwich, the excitement is gone. The holiday feelings. The sense of adventure. They’re just gone and replaced by worries. Lots of them.

view from the train, just when the dawn broke...

view from the train, just when the dawn broke…

Since I have been shouted at on the street few days before I left for Indonesia, I could no longer feel safe. After Brexit, I could no longer feel at home, nor feel welcome as a guest in this country. My husband who is a white British born and bred tried so hard to convince me otherwise, but with so many horrible news lately… it is hard not to think about the worst.

Really.

It made me think, is it possible that I could be happier if we move somewhere else?

x ❤ x