An absent husband, a dead dog and a reputation for scaring speech therapists and angering poets...

Eleven Eleven, always makes me blub. Was feeling outrageously emotional this morning and then went and got all teary in front of Twin 2's speech therapist at school this morning. I'd only just met her - she probably thinks I'm a nutter, now. We had lots of long discussions about Twin 2's speech and other things, but perhaps she was just humoring me, in the way you do with people you suspect are a bit mentally unhinged...
It all started last night when Son was on the local BBC news. The school had arranged a remembrance service here on the army barracks, and the reporter had a chat to some of the army kids. Son explained that his dad was off to Afghan in a couple of weeks and this 'shoved a worried feeling down into his tummy'. I had to go an snivel in the kitchen with a big piece of kitchen roll after that. Then, even though I'd promised myself I'd do some writing that evening, instead I spent far too much time wandering vacantly round the house and going to bed too late. So then this morning I was all tired and over emotional, and after the speech therapist incident I went into uni for a discussion with some poets and managed to upset them by suggesting that the way to increase interest in their poems would be to get actors to read them at public performances. Woah! That really didn't go down well. I had to apologise and explain that I wasn't a poet or an actor and I really didn't know what I was talking about (at least I didn't cry).
Hubby has just interrupted my train of thought by suggesting that we get Dog stuffed when he dies. He thinks perhaps a cushion cover would be nice. Which is especially cheery, when I have Dog booked in for an exploratory x-ray the same day Hubby deploys. An absent husband, a dead dog and a reputation for scaring speech therapists and angering poets...this isn't quite what I had in mind on my return from Nepal.
Oh, yes, and now I have writer's block. Which I have never had before. I'm learning so blooming much about great writing that I'm beginning to realise how un-great mine is. And I have another six thousand words to write for next week.
Now I'm off to have my third glass of ginger wine, and you can't stop me.
Take care xxx