(I've decided that, although I feel super guilty about the backlog, it's better not to create more of one whilst I'm in the process of trying to clear it. So, despite the fact that I definitely haven't got time for long posts right now, I'm going to try and make time for some sort of update each day, even if it's just a sentence of gratitude, until the plethora of backdated posts materialises. For instance, today, I'd really like to write something longer to honour the centennial of the breakout of WWI, but I'm being very strict about my timetable - and my use of electronic devices, in a bid to sort out my sleep.)
Instead I write in homage to my Mama - and scrambled eggs. Sleep has got difficult again (having become considerably better, as you'll be able to read once I've got caught up) and this morning I was really feeling it, and consequently not feeling like breakfast. Or brunch. Or any meal whatsoever. Now, Mama knows that, when I get like this, I need something which is full of protein and which I can eat without much effort.
Cue scrambled eggs, cooked with basil, because plain egg has a texture that I can't always swallow that easily. And because my Mama is a star.
They, and she, provided me with the energy to get through today, to write more of my play (rhyme unintentional) and then to have a lovely catch up with a primary school friend. Huzzah!
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