Feeling a bit out of sorts...

Maybe it's the fact that I've been in school the last two days, with a nasty,  projectile vomiting bug doing the rounds.

Maybe it was the arrival of this in the post...

...hot on the heels of the Homebase incident. (Actually, this did make me laugh!)

Maybe it's the fact that it's The Maltings Monthly Market tomorrow, and I haven't got anything new or topical to sell because I've been too busy over the road.

Or maybe it's this.  

One of the nice things that has happened since I started selling my creations at the Maltings, is that I have gained a few 'regulars'.  Some come to buy, some come to look and tell me how much they like this or that - which is just as good - and a special few come to give me bits and pieces that they have no use for and feel I will be able to use.  I have been amazed at the generosity shown!

One of my regular 'givers' phoned yesterday morning, just as I was about to set off to teach maths.  She wanted to thank me for the gift I gave her when I last saw her (a tiny, inconsequential bit of frippery) and wondered if I was going to be at the Maltings on Saturday, because she had some bits and pieces for me.  When I said that I would be there, she said that she hoped that she might get there, but if not, could she drop them round to me?  I said that would be fine, but couldn't I come over and pick them up from her, since I was the one getting all the benefit? 

She explained where she lived, which is about three-quarters of an hour away, and I said that I was going to be heading in that direction soon, as I want to go to The Quilt Room to get some fabric.  We chatted for a while - she knew all about the shop and mentioned other things I might be interested in in Dorking.  Then she said, 'I'll fill you in.  I'm being treated for cancer.  Or I was - the Royal Marsden have done all they can for me and I'm now on pain-relief only, so that's why I might not make it to the Maltings on Saturday.'  We carried on chatting - she is amazingly positive (in spite of receiving treatment for the last ten years) and full of praise for her husband who has patiently sat around hospitals on and off since about the turn of the millennium.  And she said that she had things that she wanted me to have, even after she's gone. You can probably imagine how choked up I was by this.  I've been thinking about her ever since.

Her husband's coming round this evening to deliver some fabric books and some old linens.  I want to send something to her, and have chosen my latest copy of 'The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society', hoping that she might like to bury her nose in a book, and because it is such a sweet one.  But it's hard to know what is the right thing to do.

Thinking of the friend I scarcely know, and wishing her lots of happy times with her husband, children and grandchildren in the months to come.  I wish I could do more.