Day 26 Week 4

Definitey feel yukey - blame the lady in the supermarket who replaced the guy at the checkout. She plonked herself down, let out a huge obviously virally infected gasp, and said 'I feel really ill - all hot and achey and sick'. I just looked at her in utter bewilderment and thought 'you stupid woman, why are you here spreading your disease', and sure enough five days later here I am feeling hot, achey and sick.

The phone rang and it was R. "Mum how do you, like, work out percentages?". Somewhat stunned by this opening gambit, even from R, I replied "in what sense darling?". The conversation went as follows

R : "If you've got, like, a hundred and thirty three and that's, like, a hundred percent, then what's a hundred and twenty three?"

Me : "Do you mean what proportion in a percentage, is a hundred and twenty three of the whole?"

R : "Mum (exasperated pause), please don't, like, always complicate things"

Me : "Sorry darling (brain scrambling as most intellectually challenging activity at the moment is reading daily horoscope), just wasn't sure what you meant exactly. Remember you always find one percent by moving the decimal point two places to the left" (trying to sound jovial - about percentages for God's sake. It's wonderful that I'm being asked anything positive so don't want to blow it by simply being me)

R : "Mum, I'm like, in a hurry, can you just tell me what to do?"

Me : "Then you divide a hundred and twenty three by one point three three and that will give you the answer"

R : "Oh yeh, love you, bye".

Gone. No explanation as to why percentages were being considered and heaven forbid I should ask. It wasn't always like this. Even though we've always loved each other, can't put hand on heart and say that over the last three years each has necessarily liked the other party. R was the sweetest, cuddliest, gentlest little girl and then she hit puberty. Gone were shared nights under the duvet on the sofa watching Pride and Prejudice, and instead there'd be screaming and tantrums and loathing. It was as if my gorgeous little flower was possessed by demons overnight. Thumb sucking and smiling were replaced with growling and snapping, and you know you irritate someone when they say 'stop looking at me', when all you've done is smile at them because you're pleased to see them. People at work were always very supportive and would ask 'how're things at home?', and I would either reply 'OK - not too bad' or 'she's up for adoption again'. Still, love her to bits.

Posted chocolate out to Afghanistan yesterday. The postmaster told me you must never say which country is the destination of the parcels marked with the BFPO number, for fear of interference from terrorists. Find it all so sad really.

Hopefully all will have a good, safe day.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x