I’d forgotten that sadness makes your tummy hurt.
Yesterday we faced the cruel reality of the speed of cars on the road past the house, when we made the awful discovery that one of our orphaned kittens had been hit by a car. It was so sad to see her soft grey paws lying lifeless, when half an hour earlier she had been gently tossing a hair bobble across the carpet. That sick feeling in the pit of your stomach is how it feels to be so sad because something bad has happened and there is nothing that can be done to change it.
I didn’t expect to be so upset about a pet we hadn’t asked for and who only arrived last October, but one of the saddest things was looking at her fluffy tailed brother wondering where his playmate had gone.
We’ve now almost completed a year in Cyprus and it has gone so fast, I’m panicking that it will soon be over. Our first proper visitors of the season have come and gone and we have more family arriving next week – the pool is heating up and the sky is mainly blue – the summer is getting into full swing and there’s lots to be excited about!
Our boys are coming to the end of education as they both move into full time jobs this summer and our only daughter is getting married….the times are changing. In the midst of all this I am trying to keep my head, while I write a best seller (or two), keep up with the daily news and earn some ready money. I also need to work out the best way to transform myself into a half decent ‘mother-of-the bride’ (MOB).
This is more challenging than I’d thought because no sooner do I embark on the 5:2 diet, which involves trying to limit myself to 500 calories two days a week, than we are invited to tea with friends from church. Walking into their lovely bungalow overlooking the sea, I make a mental note to refuse all cakes and accept just a cup of tea. Half an hour later I am helping myself to drop scones and jam and carrot cake – Oh dear. Life on a diet is cruel. I am considering doing some lengths in the pool and or going for a run – instead I have decided to catch up on my neglected blog. There’s little hope for this ‘would-be fit’ MOB.
Last night we raised a toast to Tinkerbell, chinking a few glasses of wine on the terrace with two cat-loving friends who called by to commiserate. We had buried her under the pine trees opposite and said a little prayer of thanks. This morning my stomach still feels strange, but it’s not as bad as yesterday.