The fabulous fifties.

I am working my way back to normality but it takes a while when you are fifty odd and feel eighty odd. Placement nearly finished me off and I wish I could say I loved it, but I can't because it was very hard work and I've had every horrid bug that ever walked the earth, or floated in the air or lurked unsuspectingly on any bit of anything. Thirteen and a half hour days with travel time either end are beyond me and so is putting make up on without glasses because I've poked my eye out twice. I can no longer stand up and put tights on because I will always end up hurtling across the bedroom floor and knocking myself senseless on the pointiest object in sight. When I need to turn over in bed I have to position my hands securely around my right knee and hip and flip them over, but not too energetically or I end up smothering myself and because of the dodgy hip I can't flip back. So I gasp into the pillow until John finally realises I'm on my last legs, then he digs me and my sympathetic nervous system kicks in 'voila' I'm on the other side crippled with cramp and wide awake.

So! despite my brain still acting like it's twenty one my body has made it crystal clear that I am now in that wonderfully liberated age group who can't eat a dish of trifle without a bib.