Cracking on.

It's 9pm and I have been here on the sofa all evening, starting to feel like myself. Been doing some online shopping, watched Don't tell the Bride, laughed at Hoffy's expression, talked to Paul, eaten dinner ( with gusto, those steroids keep on working their magic).  

Yet I am dying. 

This is weird. 

Earlier today when Nic came I could barely move along the road, I was so weary. I could feel myself shaking with tiredness and needed to have regular lie downs. I had a bath, and that was an effort. 

Now? I could go out! 

Maybe this is the start of feeling better?

Maria came round and bought me the most beautiful hat. It is so me. It's perfect. I didn't want to see her so i stayed in the living room while P and T answered the door. I'm a bit scared of visitors to be honest. 

Tilda was fab today, running up and down the hill on the way to school, on the way home, the getting changed when we got in like I asked her to, and then playing with her little ponies and getting me to plait her hair and being generally lovely. We held hands at TV time. 

Mum asked this morning if she could call me over the phone when she wasn't with me,and would I be able to cope with that as she felt lost at the weekend. I said no and cried on her shoulder and clung to her and was a shell of myself. That was 12 hours ago. 

Weird.