The Pasta of Disownment

My son had a dream about, 'the Pasta of Disownment.'

Oh really. Now what's that? (Clearly not the Le Pastie de la Bourgeoisie).

'It's the pasta that Harry Potter had to eat when he had no friends. There was a big neon sign above it.'

I don't think that bit was in the books. 

But hey ho, The Pasta of Disownment could feature in future tales. And it feels like my staple diet at the moment. Oh, the un-splendid isolation! Good people, can you bear it? 

Every disgruntled thought I have these days, is countered by another thought, telling me I can't complain.

But this winter lockdown is long and hard and boring!

YOU ARE NOT A DOCTOR OR NURSE IN ICU.  YOU ARE NOT A PATIENT IN ICU.

I miss my friends and the life we had before - but it's so far away now, I forget what it feels like. What if I become 'comfortably numb'?

YOU HAVE A WARM HOUSE AND A FAMILY THAT CAN BEAR EACH OTHER.

You should have written a book by now! What's kept you?!

YOUR KIDS NEED HOMESCHOOLING, FEEDING AND MEDICAL APPOINTMENTS. YOU ARE KINDA BUSY. Oh, and the dog says it's your turn at Scrabble. 

So, talking of medical appointments, poor Tess has coughed every day for a OVER A YEAR.

It is currently the main weight on my heart. You are only as happy as your unhappiest child, said someone once. Not a monk. 

We have seen several doctors, tried many medications. None have worked. She was due to get a throat scope last week, but the poor ENT doctor had to self isolate. More Pasta of Disownment over here please, waiter? Grazie! More for everyone, including the kind surgeon! 

Our local neighbourhood had been planning a Winter Window Art Festival. I am not one of these 'natural crafting mothers' (NCM's?) but we did our best this afternoon - only to find out later that it has been cancelled, due to lockdown. Doh! of course it has. 

Here's our inside-out windaes, for one night only:

Ah well. It is Friday. We nearly have January 2021 tucked under our belts. We haven't resorted to playing Barbara Dickson.  Oops. I just have. It's a bit Cliff Richard, when you think of it. Must dig out my Walkman, roller-skates and satin shorts. 

Here's some beautiful children and a dog. Thank God they're mine. 

 February's on it's way. Keep ploughing your furlough.