Feeling a Bit, well, Bleugh, Actually

You know the times when you've been on such a high for weeks, eagerly anticipating a night out or similar? Then it comes and the day after you're just, well, bleugh?

Yeah, that.

The Mads were, to steal a word now being used by all the Innovative finalists (well done Ruth!) amaze-balls. It was great fun, singing, dancing about, getting glammed.

Even the few weeks before when we kept that video quiet. God knows how we did it, but not one of us slipped up and gave it away.

Seeing the stats go mental, and the Tweets about it was brilliant, and I really hope even my harshest critics now see that, very rare is the occasion when I take anything seriously. Its a laugh, this blogging lark, after all.

The night itself was just as I expected, a laugh a minute. We danced, laughed, sang (badly), ate nice food, and laughed some more.

Come Saturday, the cold I'd been harbouring, lovingly passed to me by both the Bratlings, made it's presence felt, and I felt like death. My ears had both popped, I was coughing, it wasn't pretty. Poor room mate Adele must have been concerned she'd go home with more than just memories of a fun evening, and I hope I didn't pass on the stonking cold!

I hadn't drank very much, not by my usual "free bar" standards, but as I'd taken some strong pain killers, well, 3 glasses made me a bit giddy. I sensibly got back to the hotel (was the "£5 per glass of wine" rumour true?), and had myself a cup of coffee (even though it was met with bemused questions of "you're drinking what?").

By Saturday night, feeling like a walking corpse, I started to get those post party blues I so often suffer from.

It was back to reality with a bump, and with nothing to look forward to until Christmas, it just left me a bit flat.

Personal life wise, Littlest had his first appointment with his new Consultant, at Wycombe Hospital. I started to get the sense of de ja vu when Elder came back (after a £20 each way cab journey) and announced the man had no notes as the old hospital hadn't managed, in 6 weeks, to send them on as yet. He's given Littlest a new medication- which turned out to be the same as he had in summer that he had an allergic reaction to.

Not a good start.

However, the rest is positive as he wants to see Littlest in 6 weeks time, and has told our GP about another medication to try should this one make him react badly again.

So it's been back to the phones, contacting the old rubbish hospital about his notes, the Health Visitor about his referral to the Child Development team, the school to check they aren't giving his spot at nursery up. Same old same old.

I don't mean to sound like caring for him is a chore, not at all, but I do feel a bit out on my own. I know few people in Maidenhead, have no family of my own. And regardless of knowing I can talk to Elder's sisters whenever I want, I always fail to- they are so busy, have kids and lives of their own and I don't want to feel like a burden. Also, if things are also a bit hard with Elder and I (we're not Ma and Pa Walton and stress gets to everyone), I can hardly go moan to his sisters.

Hence I may be a bit quiet for a while, to take stock, to concentrate on sorting out Littlest, the usual.

I will be back, promise!