Here I Sit, With A Pizza

Here I sit, with a pizza.  It sits beside me on the sofa on a large circular tray because no plate I have is big enough for it.  I saw the pizza base sitting on the table in my kitchen last night, after having done one for my youngest son, Teenage Boy Giant, and I thought, I will save that for myself.  I half expected my other son, Elusive Boy, to come home, and I was thinking that he might like it.  But in my heart, I knew that even if he did come home, which he did not, I would not give it to him.  This morning, on seeing the pizza base, I decided that now was the time.  A very large pizza for breakfast would be the same as a very large fry up and therefore, legal. And so it came about that I am sitting on my sofa, a vertical pizza created from all sorts of things I like in my fridge by my side, and a feeling of pleasure and connection with my breakfast, that I have not felt for a breakfast before. 

I am taking things easy for a couple of weeks, starting with this weekend. Everyone that is in my house, is going to be gone by this evening.  My cousins have taken Teenage Boy Giant for half term and I hear on the grape vine that he has already been to a party with my cousin's teenaged son.  I put him on a train to Kent last night, and he must have stepped off the train and been taken straight to an all night knees up with girls and alcohol.  I never provide that, and he often wonders, loudly, what kind of gulag I grew up in to be so mean and backward. 

Elusive Boy is like the mist in the distance that you think you see, but is gone if you try and focus.  He may or may not appear, at some point or other, and make himself comfy, and then slide away again leaving a mug of steaming green tea half drunk in the kitchen.  Was he here?  I will say to myself, or am I dreaming it?  And here, this mug of half drunk green tea, this is a clue.  I must work all of this out.  Was that him, passing me by last night, or was it a mirage?  Well, whatever happens now, I have taken the pizza and there can be no turning back.

Glamorous Daughter is happy in Brighton with her Lovely Boyfriend.  She is keeping half of her fancy Valentine's bath goodies for me, her old mum, so that I too can have a Cleopatra in asses milk bath moment.  My daughter is my luxury consultant, and keeps me informed and aware on the pampering front.  And as I write, two of my lodgers are moving out of here and into their own place today.  My other delightful Polish lodger works at nights, so tonight, I will be completely on my own.  My house will be cleared of people, silent and empty but for the sound of munching, echoing around the hollow rooms, as my pizza is finally finished.

And Alan, who stepped in to take over for me last week and saved the day completely, is off in Norfolk with his brother, looking at houses for us to live in.  Find me a house, I say to him wearily on the phone, and the reception goes dead in his car, so I don't know if he was spurred into even more dedicated house hunting action, or whether he says to his brother, quick, there's a fish and chip shop, let's spend the afternoon in there doing crosswords and we'll pretend there are no houses left for sale in Norfolk.

I had a scare this week, and ended up in hospital for a couple of days.  The exodus of my children from my house is part of the get well soon plan. (The lodgers moving out is entirely coincidental.  I didn't go into them and say, you there! I feel poorly and I need you to move out tomorrow so that I can recover.  Bye!)  I do however, need time and space to think.  What am I thinking about?  Well, quite.  What am I thinking about.  Mostly, I will consider what is necessary in my busy life, and what is not.  Am I giving everything that comes my way equal weight?  And if so, why?  Am I, perhaps, a whirling dervish, that has speeded up her gentle whirl to a kind of Taz of Tazmanania hurricane?

 A psychological portrait of me until last week.

 It seems so, and in order for the over whirling to stop, I have been told by a Consultant, a Junior Doctor and my Mum no less, all sitting around my hospital bed, all in total agreement and each thinking the others were the really on the ball and top of the class, to take time off and think a bit more clearly.  Ha! When did anyone ever think clearly!  OK, I said, and so here I am, on my sofa with my large pizza, avoiding anything strenuous, like reading a book, or having a bath. And clearly not thinking clearly at all.

And so I write this blog from my sofa, in a silent house, my pizza by my side.  No one is coming in, though quite a few people, it seems, are going out.  Here I stay, unmovable, pondering, considering life from all angles.  Here I sit, in silence, the grandfather clock ticking away beside me, and time passing with every tick of the hands slowly moving round the clock face.  Have I come up with anything, with all this thinking?  Well, yes, and no.  On the yes side, I have decided that it is very hard to sit and think and that it is best when one is so very tired, not to think.  And on the no side, I have simply fallen into a light doze at the beginning of a thought. 

And there I will leave it.  I will let you quietly leave the blog, as I fall into not just a light doze, but a profound one, my hand resting lovingly on the last piece of cold pizza. The light outside fades and the clock ticks away gently beside my sofa, and in my dreams I am thinking clearly, and speaking articulately with short sharp sentences.  In my dreams, I am whirling gently again, but this time with focus, and before I wake up, I will become aware of the meaning of life.  Which on waking, I will forget, and to console myself, I will eat that last slice of cold pizza.