The physical remains of my accident are dealt with – painful, awkard but easily handled.
The psychological effect of being out of it for nearly three weeks and losing Titch are going to take longer to get over.
I feel like I have lost a flatmate. She was a funny girl, bit of an idiot, quite clever but a total clown. She would sing opera while washing up and cry while watching funny movies. Despite being intelligent she could go away and make things up that sounded more plausible than the real answer.
She had a fiendish temper and would lose it, throwing things, plotting revenge and generally behaving like a two-year old in a tantrum.
Her mind was a mixture of toddler and sage. She was the keeper of all my secrets from my earliest memory and my staunchest defender, even when I was wrong.
For some reason, probably because my husband didn’t like her very much, she moved out while I was in hospital and I feel very lost without her. Her name was Me.