Emergency wards and mending musings

What is up with this year?

For a couple of weeks I have been feeling a bit run down but 'pressed on' as most single parents do, until suddenly I was in such crippling pain that my doctor sent me straight to the emergency department at the local hospital. Almost a week later and I am finally home with a bagful of drugs, recovering from both pleurisy and pneumonia.

It was a strange experience for us all. The Teenager suddenly found herself having to fend for herself, The Boyfriend was without a date and my life as I know it went into 'holding pattern'. Now that I am home I still need to rest, and so am embarking on reducing all the paperwork that still needs catching up on after six months of writing, painting and exhibiting. But nothing really went wrong whilst I was away.

This evening as I made a valiant attempt at 'mending' The Boyfriend's favourite shirt and trousers (which I would have put in the paint rag basket myself if it weren't for the the fact that they were Paul Smith and Hugo Boss) I found myself musing as to how this year has unfolded. I haven't 'mended' any man's clothing since my husband's, and we separated over a decade ago. It feels weird. There has been a subtle shift in The Teenager's attitude since my hospital stint. She is suddenly making gestures of independence. And I am more relaxed.

So here I am, stuck at home recuperating during the biggest art week of the year, missing out on all the openings and closings, parties and after-parties, lectures and forums, champagne and canapes, schmoozing and gossiping, but I am OK. Not happy about it, but I am OK.

One small compensation, I have been selected for a fairly salubrious invitation-only drawing prize. Now I just have to get better and get drawing.