Daisy May Cooper – one crying eye

Today’s achievement?

Listening to most of that f***ing Daisy-May sh***ing Cooper’s f***ing memoir on f***ing Audio-bloody-bubble with a raging migraine – AND NO F***ING DRUGS!

At the lowest point (so far – not out of the woods, as I slink back to my bed – and it’s still daylight) I feared I had become Covidified, with a bit of a fever as I cowered in bed with my eyes closed glugging Coca Cola* as if my life depended on it, with Daisy chuffing and fuffing away on my brand new smart speaker (it will probably need a factory re-set now to unlearn its acquired sweariness, and I will have to try and quash the re-emergence of my own original Gloucestershire twang – when she says ‘Cheltenham’ I was quite definitely back there behind the counter in Boots), but discovered I was just overheating because the cat had managed to sneak in and sit on me. It is truly ‘one of those days’.

By the way, Daisy-May’s book is interesting and funny (and very potty-mouthed, of course) and certainly gives an insight to her journey to fame and fortune. As an aspiring (expiring?) writer myself, I sort of took heart from it.

Except that, after hearing the awful stories behind her eventual success, even today I don’t think my life is sh*t enough.

*Coke is GP advised. I hate it. Hasn’t worked. Is clearly rubbish.

I’m not quite sure what exactly it is that I’m tiring of at the moment, but I sense I am not alone.

In the first few weeks of lockdown, we had myriad Zooms – quizzes, games, meetings, singing – but these have gradually dwindled, apart from those which replace actual gatherings which would have happened anyway. My Monday morning singing group continues which allows us to learn new songs and practise old ones. This is good and works well. My husband has a few regular get-togethers in the diary which have replaced the ‘actual’ with the virtual, so that life can go on.

Some days, it all feels fine and I’m proud of my smarter garden and my occasional contributions to our local key worker support efforts.

Other days, it feels as though nothing will ever be the same again. No more booking flights to somewhere new at the drop of a hat. No more reflex trips to Cornwall when the weather looks set fair for a walk. No more live theatre!

OK – I’m exaggerating now. But I’m starting to get itchy feet or cabin fever or something, balanced by a looming fear of actually going anywhere in company again. The realisation that my public transport habit, previously so laudable as planet-saving, will be not only potentially dangerous from my own health perspective, but also possibly frowned upon as non-essential use in the near-term.

I think I need another quick look at Daisy May Cooper’s Instagrams to raise a laugh.

Ooh – just had an Insta scroll and my daughter has posted a pic which shows her cat modelling the latest DIY success.

Cheered up now. Sometimes it doesn’t take much.

Tag: Daisy May Cooper

Migraine or Covid? Or Daisy May F***ing Cooper?

Tiring of it now