Itchy and Scratchy

Having got to the stage of being swathed in bandages, so much has the this weather provoked my eczema, I have to say that I wish the sun would go in once in a while. It was cool for a couple of hours this morning (still T-Shirt weather), and for the first time in six weeks, I didn't itch. Had to give up on the fan because my neck was so dry, despite getting up every couple of hours in the night to apply goop (prescription moisturiser, resembles something from Dulux) that my head wouldn't turn any more. What I'm wondering is, if we've had this weather for the past six weeks, who on earth's got ours? And am I surprised that they're not giving it back? 'Ooh, I wonder whether we should get the itchy humid air-soup back, or shall we stick with this cool, breezy bliss?'

All this points me towards the inescapable fact that I cannot avoid appointments with the Behaviour Modification Clinic any more. When I come back from Germany, therefore, I will add a clicker (such as one might use to train a cat to do tricks) to my happy assortment of handbag bumph (inhalers, ointments, tissues for weeping eyes and purse for if I manage to stay out long enough to want to buy anything). Mostly I stay at home. I can't even afford to sweat because it makes my skin burn and some days my eczema is so bad that I can barely move. This is not fun, and if there is something I can do about it, even if it does sound as though I will be in therapy and potentially treated as though itching is psychosomatic (and it isn't, that is a known quantity, before you wonder), then so be it. I am ripe for change.

Kittens

I've been busy lately, and so, apparently, has one of the cats. Phoebe, who looks barely larger than a kitten herself, had three little ones of her own, apparently effortlessly and happily. The middle one did not seem to be able to get a look in at feeding times, and we had to hand rear it. It went well for about a week, then sadly, it contracted a lung infection and died. I think that was all the more sad because of course, if you have to get up every couple of hours to feed the little thing, you become quite attached to it, despite efforts to the contrary.

The other two kittens are ginger, cute and fat. They were less cute the other day because they were riddled with fleas, but we used one of the only effective treatments available for beasties of that age, and they are now comfortable, flea-free and almost three weeks old. Phoebe, is jumping the gun slightly with their development, having brought a mouse in for them on the first full day of their existence, and having hoiked them out to the front door yesterday, where she had deposited a pigeon for their consumption. She'll be enrolling them in university next.

Another element keeping me busy of late has been my parents' move to Germany. Last weekend, my husband and I spent many, many hot. dripping hours helping to cram a removals lorry full of their stuff. It turned out that Big Yellow Storage had rented them a room several cubic metres larger than they had actually said, meaning that we still have some of mum and dad's stuff here, ready to ferry off in their caravan when they come over in August to go to collect it, go to a re-enactment, and help us with a little more renovating. Although the lorry left for Bavaria last Sunday, it still hasn't arrived! It broke down about 100 miles to the north of mum and dad's new place a couple of days ago, and this morning, the removals men were off to hire a 7.5 tonne lorry from a nearby depot. This means that they will have to do two trips from their stricken lorry to mum and dad's place. Luckily, my parents are very laid back about the whole thing and laughing at the catalogue of disasters (there's a lot more, particularly regarding the inefficiencies of NatWest). Still, it's far too hot to carry on with all this energetic typing, so I'm off...

Hurray! It's raining!

Well, after many sweltering days, it's finally cooling off with a spot of rain. Bliss.

My parents have been camping locally and visiting each day, having moved out of their old house last week. I've been pretty much holed up marking and writing TMAs of my own, but should be free of work by the end of today, at which point I can spend more time with them (whilst we all continue with the renovation of this house). They're moving to Germany in just over a week, so have been working like maniacs to get everything into store ready for a moving team, all in a heatwave, of course. Mum's lost half a stone and Dad was losing a pound a day, but sadly I'm as round as ever (well, I've been sitting around writing essays, so I'm not like to reduce). My single lengthy venture into the outdoors to dig up a number of plants from mum and dad's garden to transplant to ours resulted in a cracking headache and some night-time throwing-up. Needless to say, I don't emerge until the evening, as a rule. Despite this, I come from a long line of people who don't seem to burn easily which is fortuitious, as virtually every sun cream I have tried brings me out in a vibrant red rash. Perfume as an unnecessary added ingredient (even in the creams designed for 'sensitive' skins) is really not helpful. Grumble grumble moan.

Half way through that paragraph, it stopped raining. Oh well, at least the air is cooler now and I can carry on marking in comfort.

Help me, I'm melting!

Save me from this stifling heat! It's been consistently hot for whole days at a stretch - unprecedented. It would be nice to enjoy this sunny weather, but we have been clearing out the back yard preparatory to doing a lot more house renovation. Thirty degrees is really not the weather to be lugging heavy things about the place and digging the garden, especially after throwing up a lot only a couple of nights ago as a result of too much digging.

It looks as though tomorrow will be even hotter, so we're changing tack slightly and painting the front windows and walls instead, because at least that involves standing relatively still. The sun is around the back of the house in the morning, so the front will be beautifully cool. Well, maybe not cool, but it won't be like the inside of a cowboy's chaps.

Here is another poem, possibly finished... I don't really know.

Inside Out

Soul's window, grimy, broken, boarded-up;
beyond in darkness lies a barren hall,
its vaulted ceiling filled with nightmare's stench,
illusive, transient, shaking silent walls -
dreams perish in this sepulchre to thought-crime.
Shades of years forgotten haunt the shadowed
places of this desolate, silent void.
Shattered glass gleams treach'rously and gashes
unwary aggressors, no fool unbloodied here.
Metallic slash and hack of rusty swords.
Within, screams lacerate the air, despairing -
corroded blades drip poison from without,
but cannot reach the psyche in its tomb.