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144: God Only Knows

Lady B has had the weekend "off" from being mama and baker; I've barely thought about work bar this little blog post, and Mini B has been in the West Country with Lord B. After a day and night out with friends in the big city drinking all the gin, today I've emptied sock draws, seen the bottom of the washing basket for the first time in forever, and tided Mini B's growing-out-of-clothes-at-a-ridiculous-rate pile. I'm now twiddling my thumbs, trying to R-E-L-A-X. 

*twiddles thumbs some more* 

When the house creeks with a silence that you have really longed for, it's wonderful and strange in equal measure. I've had a daytime bath, I've binged on Carrie moaning about Burger and comparing Big to Aidan, and I've shifted through online shopping wish lists until I snoozed. Blissful, yes. And then the thinking creeps in; y'know when you start to unravel that thinking about everything - and I mean EVERYTHING - you try so hard to not think about normally. Sigh. Lady B has a nasty habit of over-analysing when given the chance. It makes my head hurt. The last few weeks have been a bit full on, and thinking about the really important stuff has been both necessary, a must, and yet also a tricky thing to even begin to do. There's been some serious reevaluation of the important life stuff. Isn't it funny how when life threatens to pull at the string that could pull everything apart, you realise just how wonderful those good things are, how you really don't want to ever let go of anything remotely good, and you start clinging on even harder. That. 

One little thing that has happened to Lady B in those last few weeks, is that I've been diagnosed with coelic disease. I'd like to kick this little part of the blog off with this: it's not just an intolerance, it's not because I feel a bit bloated after eating some bread or slightly uncomfortable. It's an autoimmune disease; my body literally attacks that healthy tissue and tells it to get the hell out of my body. It can be a bit infuriating and offensive when people roll their eyes at the GF chat; it's pretty darn serious stuff and has been debilitating Lady B somewhat for some time. So, to be fair, getting a positive result is a relief finally but not before going through the unpleasantness of an endoscopy and colonoscopy, and a CT scan for the small intestine (if you've had that CT scan, you do not need me to tell you just how un-delightful that is.)  For a baker, being coeliac is a bit more than inconvenient, it's downright annoying as hell. But manageable. Life is manageable and now that I know, I can manage the diet and the symptoms, and life can return to a bit more normality, just without my favourite food would-be-the-last-meal-i'd-request in the world; pasta. My god; how I will miss properly made pasta with all that wheat. Sigh. 

Yet, it didn't stop there for Lady B, and the CT scan showed up something else we weren't expecting. I've taken it as sign that the coelic-ism part of me was supposed to draw my attention to other things, mostly that our health is one of the most treasured things we can own and boy, do we take it for granted. I think I could readily admit that I'm not that good at taking care of myself, maybe even go so far as abusing the fact I can get away with eating peanut butter and banana for at least two meals a day, or that four hours sleep is enough. Yep, I don't really look after myself. What mama, working women, or just anyone does? It's totally fair to say, Lady B - and those closest to her who knew what was going on - had a little moment the last ten days.  Moment dissipated somewhat for now, but moment has made it's impact. 

It's made me think about so many things, and so many wants, and so many past experiences. Notably, about my friend Lady Raine. I've hinted at Lady Raine many times, but perhaps not elaborated; at the horribly tender age of 21 she cruelly succumbed to non-Hodgkins lymphoma. We met moments after moving into our halls at university, she was my bedroom neighbour knocking on my wall every night to say goodnight to her "monkey" (that's me), and had a penchant for Spongebob and fine patisserie, as well as one specific Australian man who we all took a fondness to too. Losing a friend when you're young and yet to really experience all the twenty-something stuff is tough, it's also life affirming and friendship building. All those friends I made in those first moments of moving into halls, I am still to this day friends with - partied with last night drinking all the gin. I've thought of Lady Raine, I've thought of my friends, I've thought of my Lord B, I've thought of my family, and of course, I've thought of Mini B. The thinking has got me, it's really got me. 

I go on. I shall stop before I blurb uncontrollably on Lord B's laptop. But here's what I'm leaving you with this Sunday evening; yes life is short which is disgustingly cliche, but life is also fucking wonderfully enlightening, horribly nasty at times, and full to the brim with moments that remind us how incredibly powerful love is, in whatever form; as a mother, father, husband, wife, sister, brother, daughter, son, friend, lover, stranger - anything. It's so god damn powerful.

Harvest it, use it, it'll get you through the strangest and most wonderful of times. 

This song will probably help too. It's helped me. 

Be good and bake well,
Lady Bakewell-Park