Supper for One

You know it’s bad when...

... all you can think to do is turn on a tv, or in this case select iplayer on the internet, and what do I choose to watch? Yep, that’s right, an episode of ‘Bargain Hunt’... Of all things!

I find it a little unsettling, the husband being away. It’s still the day he left, and he’s still somewhere in the sky. I did manage to do some work today, not a lot, but some. I kept the appointments I made to fill up my time and give me a distraction or two, and now I’ve got an hour on my hands before I have to go to a dance recital.

It’s fine, the dance recital is a good thing. The daughter has been volunteering her time, this past year, to the PE department at her old school, helping them with dance, organising clubs, and choreographing and presenting showcases; this is one of those. I’m pleased to go, not least because she’s cool, and she’s talented, and I adore her. 

Honestly, I didn’t much fancy going alone, but my  mother and three of her friends have also bought tickets, so I’ll have someone to sit with and chat to during the interval, and... you know... I’ll get to see my amazing daughter’s fantastic hard work paying off. Who could possibly ask for more?

In the meantime, I should probably eat something, and I don’t have to go anywhere for the better part of an hour, but there isn’t really enough time to get back into the work.

I really ought to eat something.

It’s rubbish eating alone, and it’s even worse cooking for one. When the husband isn’t home, I try to eat with my brother and his family, or with my daughter, and, this time, my sister’s coming for a visit, too, but, today, for whatever reasons, I have no one to eat with. Normally this would mean that I simply wouldn’t bother, but I really ought to eat.

I decide to make an omelet. There are free range eggs and good cheese, and it’s quick.

I pop up a screen for iplayer and select an episode of 'Bargain Hunt' which I set to play while I whip up my ridiculously early supper. When I sit down to eat it, the intros are all finished with, and the contestants are discussing, in actual earnest, the merits of an earwax spoon, which, it turns out in the second half of the program isn’t nineteenth century, is plastic, not ivory, and has nothing to do with the hygienic removal of aural excretions. Go figure.

The husband has been absent from my life for something over nine hours and it has come to this already.

Never mind, tomorrow’s another day, and it’s not been touched yet. 

There is, I am sure, hope for me yet... The landing is the thing. Once he’s on the ground it’ll all be fine... until he’s in the air again.