Being ill whatever else it does puts a stop to galavanting – puts a stop to most things, shrinks life small, so that it’s mostly confined to one space. In my case I’m fortunate that this space – the bedroom – has a wide bay overlooking the field opposite our houses. I can’t imagine life without the field – it’s been there unchanging since we moved in 28 years ago. It’s part of the family.
When the children were small I would sit with them and watch the first lambs let loose every spring, we’d mark the coming of the fieldfare and waxwing, later view with fascination the lumbering grey cows in the long silvery grass. There is a small road below us, between house and field but it’s not visible from the bedroom, just the field and its wide sky as if it was our very own backyard.
Not everything about being ill is bad (especially if you know recovery is on the horizon). The first week I could do nothing, but the second I’ve appreciated the field anew, reacquainted myself with it, even begun a poem about it. I’ve caught some great radio, read a fair bit– finished the new Anne Tyler – made notes, made lists, made the most of my new I PAD, retreated, rested and regrouped, being ill is not all bad…..
