I have a hideous cold. Not just a little sniffle, but a full-on, back-hurts, head-hurts, nose-stings cold. I may have caught it from going out in the rain to pick up a friend from the railway station. Now I am being a terrible hostess, not baking or washing dishes or cleaning or being entertaining. And naturally my thoughts are turning to Fuzzy Blanket.
Fuzzy Blanket is no more, having been worn to pieces. Originally it was a fluffy tartan rug purchased in Scotland, where for some strange reason we call blankets rugs. It was not really a security blanket--I don't remember needing one--it was more of a pal.
I probably should buy another (and identical) Fuzzy Blanket now that I actually live in Scotland, but let me see.
My natal oikos, as one says in Ancient Greek--which I will be teaching next term--abounds in afghan blankets knitted or crocheted by my mother. One of the memories of my family enduring in my memory is of several them sitting around the living-room clad in afghan-blanket togas. I think they were all engaged in reading, and I would not be surprised if at least two were drinking coffee. I had temporary run away from some less salubrious home, and thus the utter normalcy of my proper family struck me most distinctly.
My mother watches a lot of television, but her inner critic tells her this is wrong unless she is doing something with her hands. It matters not that she is now so hard of hearing that she must watch the screen. She is perfectly capable of reading subtitles and crocheting or embroidering at the same time, and she knows it. As a teenager she knitted pullovers while reading long and dull French and German books for class.Anyway, her projects are various, and over the years they have included a lot of afghan blankets.
As I sit in front of my sitting-room radiator in a green silk kimono, I could really use one of those afghans. I'm marooned in duvet country. You can see why the Scots voted against Brexit. They're not really British; they're French. That's my cold talking.
Basically I need my mother and an afghan. Not sure what my mother could do, however, other than say "There, there" and "Drink lots of fluids", wash the dishes, entertain my husband, and make a lot of cookies. Actually that is quite a lot of usefulness. Checking Air Canada fl----yikes!Checking Expedia.
No. Just impossible. Oh dear. Poor migrant me. Poor poor.